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FROZEN  JUSTICE 

A  STORY  OF  ALASKA 


SOME 
BORZOI-GYLDENDAL    BOOKS 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  CLARA  VAN  HAAG 
Johannes  Buchholtx 

VAN  ZANTENS  HAPPY  DAYS 
Laurids  Bruun 

EGHOLM  AND  HIS  GOD 
Johannes  Buchholtx 

THE  PROMISED  ISLB 
Laurids  Bruun 


THE  REO  GARDEN 
Henning  Kehler 


FROZEN   IUSTICB 
Ejnar  Mikkelsen 


TWO  DEAD  MEN 

Jens  Anker 


FROZEN   JUSTICE 

A     STORY     OF     ALASKA 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  DANISH  OK 

EJNAR   MIKKELSEN 

by  A.  G.  JAYNE 


NEW  YORK 

ALFRED  •  A  •  KNOPF 

MCMXXII 


COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNTOPF,  Ino. 

Published,  September,  2922 


Bet  up,  electrotyped,  and  printed  by  the  Vail-Ballou  Co.,  Binghamton,  N.  T. 

Paper  supplied  by  Perkins- Goodwin  Co.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 

Bound  by  the  H.  Wolff  Estate,  New  York,  N.  Y. 


MANUFACTURED     IN     THE     UNITED     STATES     OF    AMERICA 


FROZEN  JUSTICE 

A  STORY  OF  ALASKA 

PT8/75" 

M45.  A/72 


503225 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive,org/details/frozenjusticestoOOmikkrich 


I 


FAR  up  in  Alaska,  at  its  northernmost 
point  and  walled  in  by  ice,  lies  an  Eskimo 
settlement.  It  is  a  big  one,  for  more 
than  five  hundred  men  with  their  women  and 
children  call  it  home. 

Among  the  Eskimos  the  settlement  is  called 
Nuwuk,  but  in  the  white  man's  language  its  name 
is  Point  Barrow. 

Along  the  low,  sandy  foreshore,  on  a  stretch 
of  four  or  five  miles,  stands  hut  after  hut,  built 
of  wood,  made  snug  with  turf;  and  outside  each 
hut  is  a  platform,  raised  high  above  the  ground. 
On  this  all  the  household  goods  are  stored: 
meat,  blubber,  skin-bladders  full  of  oil,  hides 
tanned  and  raw,  clothes  old  and  new,  dog-har- 
ness, kayaks,  sledges,  spears,  lances,  weapons  and 
tools  of  all  sorts — everything  an  Eskimo  has  use 
for  is  here,  lashed  together  with  stout  sealskin 
thongs,  safe  from  the  furious  winter  storms, 
from  being  buried  under  the  snow,  but  above  all 
from  the  evil  designs  of  the  dogs. 

In  summer  the  promontory  is  green  and  gay 
with  flowers;  the  houses  are  forsaken,  and  up  on 


2  Frozen  Justice 

the  highest  ridge,  a  little  further  from  the  sea 
and  looking  out  over  it  and  over  the  great  la- 
goon, stands  tent  after  tent — the  Eskimos'  sum- 
mer camp. 

Outside  the  tents  sit  the  women  shouting  to 
each  other  while  their  busy  hands  clean  and 
scrape  hides.  Old  women,  bent  with  toil  and 
racked  by  rheumatism,  whose  faces  bear  the  deep 
impress  of  half  a  century's  battle  with  all  the 
forces  of  Nature,  with  hunger  and  want,  are 
warming  their  aged  bodies  in  the  rays  of  the  sun 
— following  them  around  and  finding  the  warmest 
place.  But  they  are  not  idle,  nobody  in  Nuwuk 
is  that;  they  are  still  at  work,  chewing  hide  and 
mending  old  clothing. 

There  are  children  everywhere,  running  in  and 
out  among  the  tents  and  playing.  The  boys, 
who  will  one  day  be  hunters,  are  practising  manly 
sports,  throwing  spears  at  birds  or  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  while  the  little  girls  stand  in  groups 
looking  on,  the  smallest  with  a  scrap  of  fur  over 
their  arm — their  doll — the  bigger  ones  carrying 
on  their  backs  a  little  brother  or  sister,  who  looks 
out  upon  the  wide  world  with  great  wondering 
eyes  from  the  warm  shelter  of  the  fur  anorak. 

Round  about,  among  the  women,  among  the 
children,  in  the  tents,  all  over  the  settlement, 
dogs  roam  searching  for  food  or  hunting  for  an 
enemy;  they  howl,  bark,  show  their  teeth  with 


Frozen  Justice 


ugly  snarls,  looking  like  murder,  but  not  mean- 
ing it  after  all.  Suddenly  a  dog's  shrill,  vibrat- 
ing howl  comes  from  the  farthest  end  of  the 
settlement.  It  has  an  electrifying  effect;  they  all 
stand  still,  sniff  at  the  breeze,  give  little  whines, 
cautiously,  tentatively,  trying  for  the  right  note 
— and  then  the  whole  choir  sit  back  on  their 
haunches,  lift  their  noses  high  in  the  air  towards 
the  bright  sun  and  utter  a  long,  long  howl — a 
thousand  dogs  at  once.  This  is  their  greeting  to 
summer. 

Down  by  the  shore  of  the  lagoon  lie  silent, 
serious  men  skilfully  hidden  behind  high  butts  of 
turf,  on  the  look-out  for  wild  ducks  and  geese; 
out  of  the  blue  sea  the  kayaks  hurry  to  and  fro 
apparently  without  aim  or  object,  but  their  own- 
ers, the  sturdy  hunters,  are  after  seal  or  walrus 
An  umiak — the  skin-boat  of  the  Eskimos — comes 
heading  round  the  outermost  point,  blown  on- 
wards over  the  sea  by  the  gentle  summer  breeze, 
under  a  huge  press  of  sail;  and  farthest  out, 
where  sea  and  sky  meet,  glitters  the  ice:  huge 
floes,  lofty  hummocks,  caved  out  and  blue. 

A  woman  is  scanning  the  sea,  shading  her  eyes 
from  the  sun  with  her  hand  and  fixing  them 
eagerly  on  a  kayak  which  has  suddenly  shot  off, 
intent  on  its  object.  She  sees  the  man  in  it  lift 
his  arm — a  rapid  forward  motion — a  spear 
glances — a  splash  in  front  of  the  bow:  the  seal 


Frozen  Justice 


is  hit!  Other  kayaks  hurry  to  the  spot;  spear 
after  spear  is  slung  at  the  target;  the  unequal 
fight  goes  on,  as  the  seal  draws  off  with  its  intol- 
erable burden — spears  in  its  back,  inflated  skin- 
bladders  astern — it  tries  to  escape  but  is  headed 
off  everywhere  by  a  kayak  or  a  spear,  becomes 
exhausted — dies. 

She  gives  a  shout  and  work  stops  at  once; 
women  and  children  run  up,  look  out  to  sea  with 
keen  experienced  eyes — aha!  a  seal,  an  uglug; 
now  there  will  be  great  times! 

Soon  the  fire  is  blazing  in  the  open.  Women 
come  dragging  great  cauldrons,  others  bring  water 
and  it  is  put  to  boil  over  the  fire.  More  wood 
is  thrown  on,  everything  is  got  ready;  but  out 
at  sea  the  hunters  are  struggling  to  reach  land 
with  their  great  prize,  led  by  the  man  who  first 
planted  his  spear  in  the  uglug's  back.  It  takes 
a  long  time  but  at  last  they  get  there,  a  line  is 
thrown  ashore  and  the  women  do  the  hauling. 

With  shouts  and  screams  and  much  jubilation 
the  huge  seal  is  dragged  on  to  the  beach,  flayed, 
cut  up,  stuffed  into  the  cauldrons,  and  ere  long 
a  great  shout  resounds  through  the  settlement: 
the  uglug  is  cooked ! 

Men  leave  their  butts,  women  their  skins, 
children  their  play;  all  hasten  towards  the  fire, 
towards    the    steaming    uglug-meat.     There    is 


Frozen  Justice  5 

plenty  for  all  comers:  their  eyes  glitter,  their 
mouths  are  full,  it  is  a  grand  thing  to  live. 

Silently  they  sit  around  the  smouldering  em- 
bers, belching  loudly,  full  and  contented,  meditat- 
ing upon  nothing  whatever.  But  there  is  merry- 
making in  the  air:  one  of  the  men  tries  the 
chances  of  starting  a  dance  by  lightly  strumming 
with  his  fingers  on  the  taut  skin  of  a  drum — 
the  women  sway  in  time,  the  men  nod,  more 
drums  appear,  the  dance  begins — the  wild  hula- 
hula.  They  laugh,  dance,  shout  with  joy;  the 
bonfires  blaze  up  again  in  the  light  night,  the 
smoke  rising  into  the  sky  in  light,  bluish  clouds 
— all  is  mirth  and  laughter  and  joy,  and  up  the 
slope  to  the  soft  moss-covered  ground  above  go 
man  and  woman,  hand  in  hand.   .   .  . 

It  is  midsummer  at  Nuwuk,  but  winter  will 
soon  be  there. 

Gone  are  the  tents,  put  away  till  next  spring; 
gone  are  the  houses,  buried  in  snow,  invisible — 
yet  no,  not  entirely,  for  their  place  is  marked  by 
two  holes,  one  where  the  smoke  finds  its  way  into 
the  open  air,  another  over  the  bladder-parchment 
window,  through  which  a  faint  glow  shines  out 
into  the  dark  polar  night. 

Only  the  platforms  are  to  be  seen,  emptied  of 
all  their  stores.  The  food  is  eaten,  the  oil  burnt, 
the   skins   used  up — the   summer's   supplies   are 


Frozen  Justice 


finished,  the  village  is  on  short  commons,  for  the 
sea  is  closed,  covered  by  ice. 

Inside  the  huts  sit  men,  women  and  children, 
squatting  on  floor  and  sleeping-bench.  They  are 
silent,  gazing  before  them  with  dull,  listless  eyes, 
and  their  hands  lie  in  their  lap — his  spear  and 
hunting  gear  are  all  in  order,  he  is  only  waiting 
for  open  water,  game — her  skins  are  all  tanned, 
made  into  clothes,  she  has  not  much  to  do  except 
the  cooking — but  the  sea  is  closed,  covered  by  ice, 
so  there  is  nothing  to  cook. 

The  children  are  thin,  emaciated;  their  cheek- 
bones stand  out,  their  eyes  are  sunk  in  their 
heads;  they  whimper,  want  food,  and  don't 
understand  why  there  is  none. 

The  man  is  uneasy,  there  is  a  tingling  in  his 
blood — he  longs  to  be  darting  in  his  light  kayak 
across  open  water,  after  seal,  after  food;  but 
he  must  wait — it  is  dark  outside  and  the  water 
is  gone;  there  is  ice  everywhere. 

The  children's  whimperings  grow  louder,  they 
cry  out  for  food;  it  is  more  than  their  parents 
can  bear.  They  exchange  glances,  hers  question- 
ing, beseeching;  his  gloomy  and  serious — then  he 
nods  resignedly,  gets  up,  slips  his  anorak  over 
his  head,  takes  a  spear  and  goes  out. 

The  children  sit  still,  full  of  expectation;  they 
know  what  it  means.  The  soft  footfalls  lose 
themselves  in  the  snow — all  is  quiet  and  still  in- 


Frozen  Justice  7 

side  the  little  hut — they  are  all  listening.  Then 
they  hear  a  terrified  yelp,  a  howl,  a  gurgling 
sound — the  footsteps  return  towards  the  house, 
and  the  man  crawls  in  through  the  narrow  open- 
ing, dragging  a  load  behind  him,  shakes  the  snow 
off  his  clothing,  and  without  a  word  throws  a 
slaughtered  dog  across  to  the  woman.  The  little 
ones  brighten  up;  their  eyes  glitter  at  the  sight  of 
the  raw  meat  which  appears  under  their  mother's 
deft  fingers.  Soon  the  dog  is  flayed,  cut  into 
pieces,  and  some  of  it  is  in  the  pot — only  a  little, 
for  they  must  save,  but  better  half  a  loaf  than 
no  bread. 

It  is  midwinter  at  Nuwuk,  but  after  winter 
comes  spring. 

Sunlight  is  blazing  over  the  ice,  making  the 
ice-crystals  flash  and  glitter;  spring  has  come  and 
with  it  the  seal.  Once  more  there  is  food,  and 
big  splashes  of  blood  outside  the  huts  show  where 
the  seals  have  been  flayed.  Men,  women  and 
children  have  filled  out  their  hollow  cheeks,  their 
walk  has  become  springy,  their  eyes  are  bright; 
they  breathe  freely  again  after  the  long,  cramped 
winter. 

Deep  sledge-tracks  lead  down  from  the  huts 
to  the  edge  of  the  ice  and  far  out  over  the  sea 
— out  to  busy  men  who  move  like  small  black 
dots  out  there  among  the  hummocky  ice,  waging 
their  victorious  warfare  with  the  beasts  of  the 


8  Frozen  Justice 

sea.  Day  after  day  the  dogs  in  full  cry  tow 
fresh-killed  seals  home  to  the  beach,  along  a 
track  stained  red  with  blood,  home  to  the  women, 
who  flay  and  flense  the  juicy  flesh. 

Children  walk  around,  warmly  clad  in  thick 
reindeer-skin  clothes,  munching  meat,  raw  or 
boiled  as  it  may  chance,  and  the  dogs  are  busy, 
they  have  not  yet  forgotten  the  bitter  winter  and 
they  bury  lumps  of  meat  under  the  snow — a 
precaution  against  evil  days. 

Yes,  it  is  spring  at  Nuwuk,  and  soon  will  come 
the  whale ! 

The  whale — the  great  Bowhead,  the  Eskimo's 
biggest  game;  the  sea's — nay,  the  world's  might- 
iest beast.  They  hope  to  catch  many:  whales 
give  food,  blubber  and  oil,  but  best  of  all  they 
give  whalebone  for  trading  with  the  white  man, 
who  comes  when  the  sea  opens,  in  great  ships 
laden  with  the  most  glorious  things,  much  coveted 
by  the  skin-clad  folk  away  up  in  the  north. 

Many  whales  give  much  whalebone — much 
whalebone  provides  things  otherwise  unobtain- 
able: flour  and  treacle,  weapons  for  men  and 
trinkets  for  women,  spirits  for  every  one — yes, 
they  hope  for  many  whales ! 

Preparations  for  the  hunt  are  in  hand,  there 
is  lots  of  work  to  be  done,  sledges  to  be  over- 
hauled and  lashings  renewed,  umiaks  to  be  fitted 


Frozen  Justice 


out,  cracked  timber  to  btf  replaced;  and  the 
women  are  busy  with  needle  and  thread  and 
large  hides — the  coverings  are  being  overhauled. 

But  first  and  foremost  the  men  work  at  their 
weapons — spears,  lances  and  great  knives — all 
must  be  in  perfect  order,  for  a  faulty  weapon 
may  mean  the  loss  of  a  whale. 

Ay,  they  work  with  a  will  in  the  golden  spring 
sunshine  up  at  Nuwuk — when  the  whale  is  on 
the  way! 

They  scan  the  ice-bound  ocean,  stiff,  white, 
white  as  chalk,  that  stretches  from  the  beach 
right  away  to  the  horizon;  white  everywhere,  no 
dark-blue  patches — of  water — are  yet  to  be  seen. 

Anxiously  they  scan  the  icy  ocean.  The  ice 
has  not  yet  drifted  away — it  is  late  in  the  spring, 
there  should  have  been  open  water  long  ago, 
but  persistent  westerly  winds  hold  up  the  ice 
against  the  land. 

Everything  was  ready.  A  road  had  been 
cleared,  out  between  the  great  ice-hummocks;  the 
umiaks  were  lashed  on  to  the  sledges,  driven  up 
alongside  each  other  full  of  weapons,  bladders 
and  all  the  other  gear;  the  harness  lay  on  the 
sledges  and  the  dogs  were  tied  in  long  rows; 
everything  was  ready  to  start  away  across  the  ice 
to  the  open  water,  to  the  glorious,  thrilling  fight 
with  the  north-bound  whale. 


10  Frozen  Justice 

Out  on  the  ice,  far  from  land,  where  the  watei 
ought  to  come,  sat  a  number  of  men  under  th< 
lee  of  a  lofty  hummock. 

Above  them  howled  the  gale,  the  everlastinj 
westerly  wind.  It  drove  the  snow  over  the  ice, 
whirled  it  up,  whipped  it  round,  drove  it  east- 
wards in  to  the  land.  The  snow  flew  along  at 
a  furious  pace,  rising  in  clouds  from  the  tops  of 
the  hummocks,  and  everything  living  sought 
shelter — all  save  the  group  of  men  who  sat  warm 
and  comfortable  behind  the  blocks  of  ice,  with 
their  knees  drawn  up  under  the  anorak,  head 
hidden  in  its  hood,  and  back  to  the  wind  and  the 
whirling  snow. 

They  sat  in  silence  looking  towards  the  eas 
— watching  a  tall  man  dressed  in  furs  which  fitted 
closely  to  his  lithe  figure.  Long  hairs  from  the 
hood  of  his  anorak  blew  across  his  face,  but 
could  not  altogether  hide  his  dark,  vivacious 
eyes  nor  his  clear-cut  nose  and  firm  mouth — still 
less  the  large  stone  plates  stuck  on  his  cheeks 
and  held  in  place  by  a  small  plate  thrust  through 
a  hole  in  the  cheek. 

He  held  a  drum  in  his  hand,  and  as  he  paced 
backwards  and  forwards  before  the  assembled 
men  he  beat  it  and  shouted  words  into  the  gale, 
which  whirled  them  eastwards.  At  first  they 
were  gentle,  supplicating  words,  and  the  drum 


; 


Frozen  Justice  11 


seemed  to  be  beseeching  too,  quietly  and  with  a 
gurgling  sound;  his  eyes  were  mild,  his  gestures 
prayerful,  as  he  stretched  his  arms  towards  the 
east  and  touched  the  edge  of  his  drum — a  prayer 
for  an  easterly  wind. 

His  arm  dropped — he  stood  still  for  a  mo- 
ment; then  he  played  up  again  on  his  drum,  a 
tripping,  joyous  rhythm;  his  eyes  shone,  his  feet 
danced  and  his  body  swayed  from  side  to  side; 
he  was  inviting  the  east  wind  to  a  feast,  a  ban- 
quet of  whale. 

But  there  were  enemies  at  the  feast  and  they 
had  to  be  driven  out.  His  playing  became  de- 
fiant, hard — his  eyes  flashed  lightning,  his  antics 
became  threatening  and  wild;  then  he  swung 
round,  in  the  teeth  of  the  snowstorm  and  the 
cutting  wind.  His  hood  blew  off  his  head  and 
the  long  black  hair  whipped  his  face.  The  wind 
did  its  best  to  subdue  the  strong  man;  it  tore  at 
his  body,  which  swayed  backwards  and  forwards; 
but  ever  the  drum  spoke  louder,  disdainful,  de- 
fiant, imperious,  and  louder  still  came  his  words, 
almost  in  a  scream:     "West  wind,   I  bid  thee 

go!" 

The  group  behind  him  hummed  in  chorus — 
gently  praying  or  loudly  commanding,  according 
to  his  lead,  and  when  he  hurled  his  scorn  and 
anger  at  the  west  wind,  all  the  fur-clad  men  leapt 


12         Frozen  Justice 

to  their  feet;  they  turned  to  the  west,  to  the  wind 
and  the  snowstorm  and  shouted  an  echo: — "West 
wind,  dost  thou  hear?  he  bids  thee  go!" 

Then  they  sat  down,  and  the  tall  man  standing 
alone  turned  again  to  the  east  with  the  same 
prayer — imploring  the  east  wind  to  come  and 
give  them  open  water  before  it  was  too  late. 

The  prayer  was  ended,  the  last  effort  made  to 
summon  the  east  wind,  his  drum  gave  a  final, 
expiring  supplication;  then  without  turning  round 
he  walked  landwards,  followed  by  his  men. 

This  was  Nuwuk's  uncrowned  king,  the  best 
hunter,  son  and  grandson  of  the  best  hunters  of 
former  generations — Sakhawachiak,  leader  of  the 
hunt,  owner  of  five  umiaks,  the  cleverest  business 
head  in  the  settlement. 

On  the  beach  the  men  were- met  by  women  and 
children,  but  one  woman  stood  apart  on  a  block 
of  ice,  scorning  the  gale.  Her  eyes  shone,  her 
cheeks  were  aglow,  her  lips  parted  in  a  smile — 
she  clapped  her  hands  and  almost  cried  aloud 
for  joy  as  she  leapt  down  from  the  ice-block  and 
went  to  meet  the  men — no,  the  man.  .  .  .  "Sak- 
hawachiak, now  the  east  wind  will  come !" 

His  hard  features  relaxed,  his  eyes  smiled  at 
Nuwuk's  loveliest  woman:  "Igluruk,  you're 
catching  cold,  go  home !" 

Hand  in  hand  they  went  up  towards  the  huts, 
followed  by  all  the   rest;   and  soon  they  were 


Frozen  Justice  13 

sitting  cosy  and  warm  indoors,  listening  to  the 
westerly  gale  as  it  tore  over  the  settlement  with 
deep  growls  and  shrill  wails,  for  the  west  wind 
was  still  master  and  still  sent  cascades  of  whirl- 
ing snow  over  the  huts  of  Nuwuk  in  a  wild  dance 
of  death.  They  had  tried  all  they  knew  to  drive 
it  away,  nothing  had  been  left  undone;  the  ange- 
kok — the  village  sorcerer — had  been  at  work 
early  and  late  with  sacrifices  and  spells,  howls 
and  wild  antics,  all  in  vain;  but  now — ah,  now 
the  east  wind  was  sure  to  come,  for  Sakhawachiak 
had  bidden  it  to  a  feast. 

And  one  morning  there  was  a  shout —  "The 
east  wind  has  come!"  It  was  repeated  from  hut 
to  hut,  the  whole  length  of  the  settlement,  and 
people  came  streaming  out — up  on  to  the  highest 
ground,  where  they  collected,  looking  westward, 
out  across  the  ice-bound  sea. 

"Oh  look — there,  there!" — a  streak  of  blue 
broke  the  monotonous  white;  it  stretched  from 
north  to  south  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  all 
the  way  along  the  coast.  The  sun  glittered  upon 
little  frolicsome  waves;  sea  mists,  stained  golden 
by  the  sun,  rose  over  the  water  into  the  cold 
air  and  floated  away  before  the  gentle  breeze; 
the  sea  had  come  to  life — birds  flew  to  and  fro 
with  strong,  free  swoops  and  the  seal  gambolled 
joyfully  in  the  open  water.  The  prayer  had  been 
heard:  the  east  wind  was  there,  setting  the  ice 


14  Frozen  Justice 

off  the  coast — now  the  hunting  season  was   in 
at  Nuwuk,  the  coast  water  had  come. 

Whaling  was  in  full  swing.  Out  by  the  open 
coast  water  the  umiaks  stood  on  their  sledges — 
no  longer  lashed  down,  but  ready  for  instant  use. 
The  paddles,  the  short  oars,  were  in  place;  the 
harpoons  and  spears  lay  in  the  bow,  points  for- 
ward, ready  to  be  seized  by  strong  arms  and 
driven  deep  into  the  whale's  quivering  back. 
The  lines  were  coiled  in  big  fakes,  ready  to  run 
out  at  any  moment;  the  bladders  were  inflated, 
and  the  crew  lay  asleep  in  the  bottom  of  the  umiak 
— at  a  word  they  would  spring  up  and  run  the 
boat  out,  equipped  and  manned  for  the  fray. 

Solitary  men  kept  watch  from  high  ice-hum- 
mocks close  to  the  umiaks.  They  strained  their 
eyes  towards  the  south,  on  the  look-out  for  a 
whale  or  a  signal  from  the  next  watchman,  who 
showed  up  in  the  distance  sharply  outlined 
against  the  clear  spring  sky. 

Women  are  there  too,  but  superstition  forbids 
any  woman  to  be  present  when  the  whale  is  har- 
pooned— they  would  frighten  it  away.  So  they 
are  only  there  as  visitors — yet  not  entirely  so, 
for  they  see  to  the  men's  wants  in  the  way  of 
food  and  drink  and  mend  the  skins  of  the  umiaks. 

And  so  the  women  move  backwards  and  for- 
wards between  the  land  and  the  edge  of  the  ice 


Frozen  Justice  15 

with  its  hungry  and  thirsty  men;  some  of  them 
carry  out  boiled  meat,  others  go  with  bladders 
slung  on  back  and  chest,  filled  with  ice  that  melts 
to  water  with  the  heat  of  the  body — ready  to 
relieve  the  cravings  of  the  thirsty.  Others  sit 
busily  occupied  with  needle  and  thread,  repair- 
ing clothes  and  skins;  all  are  at  work,  all  have 
something  to  do — only  one  is  free,  only  a  single 
one  of  all  the  women  in  the  settlement  goes 
about  without  any  special  task.  Beautiful  she  is 
to  look  upon,  and  her  slender  body  is  clad  in 
costly  furs;  but  then  she  is  only  for  the  eye,  not 
for  work — she  has  never  learnt  it  and  will  not 
learn  it  now.  She  is  Igluruk — Sakhawachiak's 
woman,  the  loveliest  on  the  whole  coast,  envied 
by  her  sex — and  much  despised;  desired  by  men, 
but  belonging  only  to  one — Sakhawachiak,  who 
from  the  time  she  was  a  child  chose  her  for  his 
mate. 

Her  complexion  is  fair  and  her  eyes  not  so 
brown  as  most  Eskimo  eyes ;  her  face  is  oval  and 
does  not  show  the  prominent  cheek-bones,  usually 
so  noticeable  in  all  Eskimos;  she  is  supple  and 
finely  built,  with  springy  step,  not  dragging  and 
heavy  from  much  toil;  in  truth  she  is  as  beautful 
and  delicate  as  any  woman,  even  outside  the  land 
of  the  Eskimos — but  then  her  father  was  a  white 
man. 

In  form  and  appearance  she  is  a  fitting  mate 


16  rozen  Justice 


Sakhav>  but   there   the 

DC    ends — he    is   tirst   a:  in   the 

chase,  in  every  manly  exercise — she  comes 
can  do  nothing,  is  only  a  beautiful  picture. 

But  he,  Sakhawachiak,  the  f  the  natural 

now  standing  on  the  ice-hummock, 
sharply  outlined  against  the  brilliant  sun — h 
fond  of  her  and  treats  her  as  no  other  woman 
is  treated  in  all  Nuwuk:  he  adores  her  and  al' 
her  to  do  as  she  pleases,  lets  her  off  all  a  woman's 
heavy  duties  and  gets  others  to  do  her  sh 
not:  coo  good  for  lgluruk,  all  she  desires 

is  he   i 

And  as  he  stands  up  there  on  the  hummock  his 
interest  is  divided  between  lgluruk  and  keeping 
a  look-out  for  whale.  He  looks  at  her  and  then 
across  the  open  water,  cheerful,  happy,  con- 
ten:  th  her  image  before  his  eyes. 

But  what's  that?     He  starts,   his  eyes  turn 
southward,  away  from  lgluruk — yes,  there's  no 
mistake — a  jet  of  vapour  rises  from  the  sea : 
a  whale — it  spouts ! 

In  a  second  he  is  transformed  es  shine, 

he    straightens    himself    up.     There,    there,    it 
spouts  again!     He  swings   round  with  a  1< 
voiced  order:     "Run  off,  you  women 
rukn — and  then  runs  with  noise 
the  umiaks:     "Hush,  wake  up,  there's  whale!" 

Up    jump    the    sleepers,    wide    awake. 


Frozen  Justice  17 

equipped.  They  thrust  their  shoulders  to  the 
umiaks,  which  glide  slowly  into  the  water,  jump 
into  them,  grasp  the  paddles,  and  away.  But 
high  up  in  the  bow  of  the  foremost  one  stands 
Sakhawachiak,  still  as  a  statue  with  the  harpoon 
raised  aloft,  ready  to  plunge  the  deadly  weapon 
up  to  the  shaft  in  the  whale's  back. 

The  whale  comes  on  lazily,  disporting  itself  in 
the  water,  its  back  shining  black  and  glossy,  while 
every  now  and  then  it  sends  up  a  jet  of  water  and 
vapour;  then  it  dives  for  a  while,  comes  up  again 
for  breath — coming  steadily  nearer,  with  no 
idea  of  danger. 

The  whale  has  passed  the  umiak  .  .  .  now 
then — row,  paddle  for  all  you're  worth!  White 
foam  scatters  from  the  bow,  and  the  umiak  flies 
over  the  sea  propelled  by  eight  muscular  men; 
the  sweat  pours  off  them,  every  nerve  is  tense. 
But  in  the  bow  stands  Sakhawachiak  with  feet  set 
far  apart,  one  a  little  forward  of  the  other.  He 
holds  the  harpoon  with  both  hands  high  above 
his  head  and  sways  his  shoulders,  testing  his  bal- 
ance and  measuring  with  the  eye  his  distance  from 
the  black  monster. 

The  oarsmen  hold  their  breath — not  a  sound 
is  heard  but  the  foaming  of  the  water  at  the  bow. 
They  are  gaining  on  the  whale,  as  the  huge  and 
mighty  beast,  strong  as  the  very  forces  of  Nature, 
swims  on  secure  in  the  consciousness  of  its  power. 


18  Frozen  Justice 


But  a  few  seconds  more  and  it  suspects  the 
danger — the  big  body  gives  a  jerk,  the  tail  moves 
restlessly,  the  head  turns  a  little  from  side  to  side. 
Soon  it  will  see  the  umiak  and  dive — or  attack, 
if  by  then  the  harpoon  has  not  buried  itself  deep 
in  the  Whale's  flesh.  But  it  is  too  soon  yet  to 
hurl  the  deadly  weapon:  the  vulnerable  spot  is 
still  out  of  the  range  from  the  umiak — wait  a 
second  or  two. 

Sakhawachiak  stands  in  the  bow,  calm  as  be- 
fore, merely  signalling  to  the  rowers  with  nods  of 
the  head — "Straight  ahead!" — "Put  on  speed!" 
— and  the  umiak  shoots  forward  through  the 
seething  water,  aiming  obliquely  for  the  whale's 
neck  from  astern. 

Ten  fathoms,  five  fathoms,  only  two  fathomo 
from  the  whale — the  nodding  head  steadies  with 
a  jerk  and  Sakhawachiak  bends  his  body  back. 
Then  he  throws  himself  forward  and  the  harpoon 
flies  to  the  mark,  propelled  by  his  strength,  its  own 
weight,  and  the  umiak's  foaming  onrush — straight 
to  the  neck  of  the  whale. 

The  silence  is  broken — "Back  water!" — for 
now  they  are  right  upon  the  monster.  The  pad- 
dles grip  the  water,  which  foams  around  them, 
and  the  umiak  loses  its  way  with  its  bow  well 
overlapping  the  whale's  back,  amid  a  rush  of  surf 
like  that  on  a  storm-swept  coast.  The  umiak 
drops  astern,   away  from  this  dangerous  prox- 


Frozen  Justice  19 

imity,  but  not  before  Sakhawachiak  has  plunged 
a  couple  more  harpoons  in  the  back  of  the 
wounded  whale,  which  in  its  terror  beats  the 
water  to  a  froth  with  its  tail. 

"Back  water — away  from  the  whale  1" — now 
they  can  see  its  eye,  small,  red  and  evil;  then  it 
raises  its  forepart —  uLook  out,  it's  diving!" — 
slowly  the  head  sinks — the  back  is  arched,  the 
water  surges  about  the  whale — then  the  tail  comes 
up,  high  in  the  air,  higher  still,  and  lashes  all 
round  in  the  air.     One  blow  means  death. 

But  its  adversaries  are  cool,  experienced  men; 
eight  pairs  of  eyes  are  watching  the  whale's  least 
movement,  the  umiak  backs  away  in  safety,  and 
then  the  whale  dives — in  surf  and  blood-stained 
foam  the  mighty  beast  disappears  with  three  har- 
poons in  its  back. 

The  two  forward  rowers  drop  their  paddles 
and  come  to  the  aid  of  Sakhawachiak.  And  he 
needs  it,  for  the  whale  tugs  at  the  lines  with  a 
force  of  a  hundred  tons;  they  are  stretched  thin 
— thinner  still — to  breaking-point — the  wood- 
work smokes  as  they  run  out  over  the  bow.  One 
line  is  thrown  overboard  with  an  inflated  bladder 
at  the  end  of  it,  then  another,  then  the  last — the 
umiak  is  released  from  the  whale. 

More  umiaks  come  up,  all  are  in  the  neighbour- 
hood; at  least  twenty  boats  pursue  the  wounded 
whale.     They  dash  along,  side  by  side,  propelled 


20  Frozen  Justice 

by  shouting,  howling  men,  but  each  has  a  cool, 
calm  man  in  the  bow,  ready  to  send  the  harpoon 
home  to  its  mark. 

The  lines  slacken,  up  comes  the  whale,  breaking 
the  surface  with  a  mighty  splash.  It  sees  the 
umiaks  all  around,  takes  fright,  lifts  its  tail  to 
strike  and  lashes  the  water  into  foam — but  fails 
to  reach  the  boats.  Then  it  dives  again,  with 
more  harpoons  quivering  in  its  back;  lines  run 
out,  bladders  are  thrown  overboard,  paddles  flash 
in  the  sun,  the  water  churns  round  the  umiak — 
"Keep  near  the  whale!" 

For  an  hour  the  battle  goes  on.  Then  the 
whale  dives  no  more — it  is  too  tired.  It  chases 
the  umiaks  through  water  that  is  turbid  and  greasy 
with  blood  and  oil  from  the  animal's  body;  it 
lashes  the  sea  into  foam  with  its  tail — but  the 
umiaks  are  manned  by  crews  that  know  the  danger 
and  despise  it;  they  row,  backwater  and  row 
again,  right  through  the  surf,  close  to  the  whale; 
blood  and  spray  dash  over  the  boat  and  its  crew, 
as  they  plunge  harpoon  after  harpoon  into  the 
animal's  back. 

The  whale  is  exhausted,  gives  up  the  fight,  but 
is  still  alive.  Slowly  it  swims  about,  blood  pour- 
ing from  it  in  streams;  its  eyes  are  blinded  by 
the  bloody  water.  Its  mouth  opens  and  shuts, 
the  water  is  expelled  through  the  whalebone  with 
a  whistling  sound;  it  still  spouts — but  blood.    And 


Frozen  Justice  21 

round  about  the  Eskimos  rest  quietly  in  the 
umiaks,  for  the  whale  is  nearly  dead  and  can  now 
do  no  harm. 

Great  flocks  of  birds  come  flying  from  north  and 
south,  east  and  west;  screaming  they  alight  on 
the  back  of  the  still  living  beast  and  fight  over 
its  congealing  blood;  screaming  the  whole  swarm 
flies  up  into  the  air  when  the  whale's  body  quivers 
in  its  death-struggle;  the  sun  is  eclisped  by  them, 
but  as  soon  as  the  whale  is  still  again  they  settle  on 
it  once  more. 

An  hour  or  two  have  gone  by  and  still  the 
whale  is  not  dead,  but  its  movements  are  feeble; 
only  occasionally  does  it  manage  to  raise  its  tail 
out  of  the  water — then  it  makes  a  last,  a  desperate 
effort  to  escape  from  its  persecutors :  it  attempts  to 
dive  but  has  not  the  strength;  then  it  rolls  over  on 
its  back  and  exposes  its  light  coloured  belly. 
And  away  on  the  beach  and  from  all  the  umiaks 
rises  a  shout  of  joy —  "The  whale  is  dead!" 

Then  the  women  come  down.  They  run,  they 
jump  along  the  track  out  to  the  open  water, 
children  running  with  them,  dogs  too,  and  last  of 
all  come  the  old,  worn-out  ones,  those  who  in 
bygone  years  stood  in  the  bow  of  the  umiak  and 
dealt  the  death-blow,  or  were  first  in  the  women's 
race.  All  that  can  creep  or  walk  hurry  out  to 
the  open  water,  with  screams  and  laughter  and 
loud  cries  of  joy,  mad  with  delight. 


22         Frozen  Justice 

On  the  sea  they  are  hard  at  it.  A  score  or 
more  of  umiaks  tow  the  defeated  giant  towards 
land  at  a  funereal  pace;  they  toil  and  moil  at  the 
paddles,  but  they  do  make  headway,  up  to  the  edge 
of  the  ice,  where  busy  hands  make  fast  the  car- 
case. 

And  then  they  feed — for  the  winter  was  long 
and  hard,  and  the  winter  is  coming  again — so  they 
settle  down  to  a  feast  out  there  on  the  ice,  by 
the  open  water,  alongside  the  dead  whale. 

It  is  more  than  a  feast,  it  is  an  orgy  of  food. 
All  who  have  hands  and  can  use  a  knife  carve 
big  lumps  of  mugtuk  from  the  whale,  stuff 
them  in  their  mouths  and  cut  again.  Blood  and 
oil  drip  from  the  corners  of  their  mouths  on  to 
their  clothing;  and  when  their  stomachs  are  full 
they  lie  down  to  sleep  beside  the  whale,  happy, 
satisfied  and  dreaming  glorious  dreams  of  moun- 
tains of  meat — dreams  that  materialize  as  soon 
as  their  eyes  open — for  the  whale  is  there,  one 
can  feed  again,  feed  till  one  can  eat  no  more. 

Provident  men  and  women  stand  up  on  the 
whale  with  huge  knives  and  hack  at  the  carcase, 
flaying  blubber  and  meat  off  it;  they  pile  it  on 
sledges  and  get  it  driven  to  land  by  dogs  so 
gorged  that  they  can  scarcely  walk. 

There  is  a  smell  of  blood  and  oil  and  sweat, 
blood  running  everywhere;  the  snow  is  soaked 
with  blood,  the  Eskimos'  clothes  are  caked  with  it 


Frozen  Justice  23 

in  thick,  thick  layers;  they  have  blood  on  their 
hair,  blood  on  their  faces,  blood  on  hands  and 
arms;  the  dogs  have  rolled  in  blood,  which  con- 
geals, till  their  coats  stick  out  round  them  in  bloody 
tufts.  The  sledges  run  with  blood  and  oil;  the 
sea  is  dead,  its  waves  subdued  in  fat — and  up  in 
the  air  are  thousands  of  gulls,  blood-stained  like 
everything  below,  so  full  that  they  vomit  as.  they 
fly.  ' 

Heigh-ho !  there  is  feasting  at  Nuwuk  when  the 
east  wind  is  master — bidden  to  a  banquet  by 
Sakhawachiak. 

More  whales  are  taken.  Meat  is  heaped  ashore 
in  great  piles,  blubber  in  others;  but  high  on  the 
platform  lies  the  precious  whalebone,  washed, 
dried  and  tied  in  bundles,  awaiting  a  ship.  It  is 
early  summer  at  Nuwuk — soon  the  ships  will 
come,  and  with  them  life  and  jollity. 


II 


THE  whaling  was  over.  The  whale  still 
swam  in  the  sea  off  Nuwuk,  but  so  far 
out  that  the  Eskimos  could  not  reach  it 
in  their  frail  umiaks,  and  so  it  was  preserved  for 
the  time  being;  the  mortal  combat  would  not 
begin  again  until  the  whaling  fleet  arrived. 

So  there  was  peace  at  sea  and  peace  on  land;  the 
Eskimos  were  waiting  for  the  ships. 

The  sun  poured  down  its  rays  upon  the  low 
shore  and  baked  it  warm;  it  called  to  life  the 
plant  world  after  its  long  winter  sleep,  green 
things  appeared,  and  buds,  in  a  night  the  flowers 
came  out — yellow  anemones  turned  their  shining 
heads  to  the  sun,  little  red  flowers  burst  out  in 
every  crack  and  cranny  where  they  could  find 
shelter,  blue  harebells  nodded  their  pretty  heads 
in  the  gentle  summer  breeze,  and  underfoot  was 
a  carpet  of  juicy  green  moss,  well-nigh  hidden  by 
delicate  pink  flowers. 

In  the  pools  wild  duck  swam  about,  mirrored 
in  the  bright  water;  overhead  flight  after  flight 
of  migrating  birds  passed  on  their  endless  jour- 
neys— flapping  and  cackling  they  disappeared  to 


Frozen  Justice  25 

the  northward  bound  for  lands  that  men  have 
never  yet  seen,  the  preserves  where  they  breed. 
Wild  swans  came  sweeping  down  and 
dashed  with  hoarse  cries  upon  the  bright 
surface  of  the  lagoon;  a  cascade  of  spray 
surrounded  them,  and  ring  after  ring  ran 
out,  settled  down,  vanished  and  the  lagoon 
lay  once  more  bright,  smooth  and  blue,  bearing 
on  its  surface  the  wanton  swans  of  springtime. 

And  out  at  sea,  wherever  one  might  look,  over 
the  flat  green  land  and  the  white  shore,  gulls  were 
soaring  in  their  light  and  graceful  flight.  They 
hovered  for  a  second,  on  the  look-out  for  small 
fish,  then  discovered  something  eatable,  folded 
their  wings  and  dived  headlong  into  the  sea;  came 
up  with  the  fish  in  their  beak — and  then  the  whole 
screaming  choir  flew  off  in  pursuit  of  the  lucky 
one,  who  struggled  to  swallow  his  prey  as  he 
flew.  Not  till  it  had  been  devoured  by  the  for- 
tunate fisher  or  by  a  bold  robber  was  peace  re- 
stored— a  peace  befitting  the  grandeur  of  the 
scene. 

The  ocean  lay  calm,  smooth,  bright  as  a  mir- 
ror, deep  blue;  out  at  sea  floated  the  white  ice, 
stained  almost  pink  by  the  low  rays  of  the  sun, 
while  in  the  shadows  it  was  blue,  dark  blue,  al- 
most blue-black,  in  sharp  contrast  with  all  the 
white  and  gold  colouring. 

And  in  the  far  distance,  where  sky  and  sea  met, 


26  Frozen  Justice 

the  fata  morgana  sported  in  its  fantastic  show, 
building  castles  with  pinnacles  sky-high,  but 
finding  them  not  beautiful  enough,  shattering 
them  to  fragments,  and  a  moment  after  creating 
a  long,  jagged  mountain  range,  on  whose  steep 
slopes  it  built  up  towers — an  endless,  restless 
game. 

The  Eskimos  wandered  about  looking  at  all 
the  greenness,  at  the  flowers,  yellow,  red  and 
blue;  they  followed  with  their  eyes  the  hosts  of 
birds  rushing  northward  and  they  saw  the  swans 
on  the  waters  of  the  lagoon;  they  saw  the  gulls, 
the  bright  sea  and  the  lovely  colours  on  the  ice; 
their  eyes  followed  the  play  of  the  mirage,  they 
saw  it  but  did  not  take  it  in,  for  their  whole 
interest  was  concentrated  on  the  southern  hori- 
zon; that  was  the  object  of  their  gaze,  as  the 
open  coast  water  was  before.  They  waited  in 
longing,  now  as  in  early  spring;  there  was  longing 
in  their  eyes,  in  every  feature,  in  the  hearts  of  all 
the  watching  men  and  women,  who  were  looking 
out  to  the  southward  from  the  highest  point  in- 
land, towards  the  spot  where  the  first  mast,  the 
first  smoke  would  appear. 

They  talked  together,  wondering  whether  the 
white  men's  magic  would  be  able  to  keep  its 
strength  year  after  year,  whether  the  white  men's 
great  God  would  have  the  power  time  after  time 
to  lift  the  ships  up  over  the  horizon;  whether — 


Frozen  Justice  27 

like  their  own  gods — he  would  not  grow  tired  of 
his  arts  and  give  up — and  what  then)?  Awful 
thought;  without  him  the  ships  would  not  be  able 
to  make  their  way  to  Nuwuk  through  its  barriers 
of  ice. 

But  listen !  One  day  a  shout  of  joy  calls  every- 
body from  tents,  from  hunting  or  from  work. 
They  rush  up,  big  and  small,  old  and  young,  up 
to  the  highest  ground,  to  the  only  hill  in  Nuwuk, 
where  a  whole  row  of  Eskimos  is  already  stand- 
ing, shading  their  eyes  with  their  hands  and  all 
turned  to  the  south,  while  the  murmur  of  their 
voices  reaches  those  who  are  running  up,  who  pick 
up  the  rhythm  and  help  to  swell  it  into  a  loud, 
clear  cry:  uUmiakpok  kaili — the  ships  are  com- 
ing!" < 

Umiakpok  kaili! — how  much  that  joyful  shout 
means  to  the  hundreds  collected  there!  It  is  a 
song  of  gladness,  a  hymn  in  praise  of  the  world's 
strongest,  of  the  white  man,  who  every  autumn 
sinks  below  the  southern  horizon  with  his  ship 
laden  with  whalebone  and  oil,  to  come  up  again 
when  the  sun  is  at  midsummer,  with  the  oil  and 
whalebone  transformed  into  flour,  sugar,  clothes 
and — spirits. 

Clever  white  man,  great  white  man,  inimita- 
ble white  man,  how  do  you  do  it?  What  magic 
did  you  receive  as  your  birthright?  Teach  it 
me,  let  me  share  your  wisdom;  I  long  to  learn. 


28  Frozen  Justice 

Thus  thought  the  angekok  of  Nuwuk,  the  dreaded 
Uyarak,  to  whom  even  Sakhawachiak  had  often 
to  give  way. 

He  was  sitting  a  little  apart  from  the  other 
Eskimos  on  a  large  stone,  bowed  down,  with  his 
aged  wrinkled  face  buried  in  both  hands,  while 
his  keen,  sparkling  eyes  followed  the  gradual  rais- 
ing of  the  ships  above  the  horizon. 

He  had  tried  to  persuade  the  white  man  to 
teach  him  the  art.  He  had  offered  more  than  one 
skipper  lots  of  bundles  of  whalebone,  beautiful 
skins,  splendid  made-up  furs — but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose; they  simply  laughed  at  him  when  he  asked 
them  to  teach  him  the  art  of  raising  even  the 
smallest  stone  without  pulling  it  by  a  string. 
They  couldn't  do  that,  they  said,  laughing.  Old 
swindler,  how  do  you  think  you  can  get  a  stone 
up  to  the  roof  of  that  iglo  without  pulling  it  up? 

Many  a  time  he  had  explained  to  the  white  men 
that  he  would  keep  it  to  himself  if  they  would 
only  show  him  the  trick;  hidden  arts  were  just 
his  means  of  livelihood  and  he  had  offered  to 
teach  them  all  he  knew  in  exchange;  but  they 
laughed  at  him — impossible,  old  fellow;  we  can't 
make  a  stone  fly! 

And  yet  time  after  time  he  had  seen  the  oppo- 
site. How  often  had  he  seen,  as  he  saw  now, 
the  tip  of  a  mast  appearing  above  the  horizon, 


Frozen  Justice  29 

then  more  and  more,  yards,  funnel,  the  whole 
hull  lifted  up  .  .  .  well,  well,  perhaps  the  white 
men  would  not  teach  an  Eskimo  all  their  magic, 
one  could  understand  that;  but  it  was  a  lie  all  the 
same  when  they  said  they  couldn't.  That  story 
about  the  world  being  round  was  all  nonsense; 
anybody  with  eyes  in  his  head  could  see  it  was 
flat. 

Thus  thought  the  wise  man,  as  he  watched 
the  ships  drawing  nearer  and  wondered  what  sort 
of  a  person  it  was  that  lay  on  the  edge  of  the 
earth  and  lifted  them  up.  .  .  .  But  round  about 
him  the  other  Eskimos  shouted  for  joy:  they  had 
nothing  to  do  with  supernatural  powers,  they 
took  things  as  they  came,  and  down  there  to  the 
south  came  the  ships  they  had  waited  and  longed 
for.  Louder  and  louder  they  shouted  and  yelled : 
"Umiakpok,  umiakpok  kaili !"  .  .  .  The  great 
event  of  the  summer  was  at  hand;  the  ships  were 
coming,  and  with  them  the  white  men's  food,  the 
white  men's  weapons,  the  white  men's  wonderful 
liquids  which  made  men  happy,  women  accommo- 
dating, and  which  in  a  short  time  chased  away 
even  the  heaviest  sorrows. 

Slowly  the  fleet  came  nearer.  There  were 
steamers,  fully  rigged,  and  there  were  sailing 
ships,  big  and  small — old  barques  lurching  heavily 
and  unhandily  over  the  water,  light  schooners  with 


30  Frozen  Justice 

high  slender  rig,  supporting  their  lofty,  soaring 
sails,  and  even  a  sloop  there  was — the  light 
forces  of  the  fleet. 

They  worked  their  way  northward,  up  towards 
Nuwuk,  where  the  whole  settlement  was  seething 
with  excitement.  Men  and  women  ran  up  and 
down  the  beach  dressed  in  their  best  furs;  the 
men's  with  little  tails  hanging  down  the  back, 
the  women's  embroidered  with  bits  of  dyed  skin. 
With  feverish  haste  umiaks  and  kayaks  were 
made  ready  for  launching — the  fleet  must  be  re- 
ceived in  befitting  manner. 

At  last  it  was  near.  The  heavy  throb  of  the 
engines  was  clearly  audible  on  land,  blocks  and 
ropes  creaked  and  grated,  orders  were  flung  out 
by  deep  manly  voices,  repeated  by  others,  an- 
swered— the  fleet  steered  into  the  anchorage  and 
made  its  way  through  all  the  light  kayaks  which 
bustled  to  and  fro,  while  their  owners  shouted, 
laughed,  gesticulated — and  nearer  the  shore  lay 
all  the  umiaks,  with  women  at  the  paddles  and  a 
disreet  old  man  at  the  helm — for  some  one  must 
keep  order,  the  women  get  wild  when  the  summer 
festival  starts. 

There  was  a  jangle  of  ships'  telegraphs,  sails 
were  furled,  one  heavy  sail  after  another  came 
whizzing  down  with  a  creak  and  a  crash;  shouts, 
screams,  curses — there  was  a  noise  as  if  all  the 
evil  spirits  had  been  let  loose  in  quiet  Nuwuk. 


Frozen  Justice  31 

The  ripple  under  the  iron-cased  stem  grew 
less  and  less,  the  ship  slowed  down,  and  then  a 
harsh  voice  rose  above  the  din:  "Let  go  the 
anchor!" — another  answered:  "Let  go!" — and 
with  a  mighty  splash  and  rattling  of  chains,  with 
a  cloud  of  rust  rising  from  the  hawse-hole,  the 
first  anchor  dropped.  The  chain  tautened,  the 
vessel  swung — and  lay  motionless.  Other  ves- 
sels came  into  the  anchorage;  time  after  time 
the  sharp  order  "Let  go!"  was  heard,  and  with 
much  yelling  and  shouting  the  fleet  gradually 
came  to  rest.  The  end  of  the  voyage  was  reached 
— there  lay  Nuwuk,  bathed  in  sunlight,  deserted, 
four  hundred  yards  away. 

But  out  in  the  roadstead,  where  the  ships  now 
lay  side  by  side,  a  frightful  hooting  was  going 
on — all  the  sirens  were  shrilling,  wide  open, 
lashed  fast;  the  sailing  vessels  were  sounding 
their  foghorns,  and  some  of  the  ships  were  firing 
canons — all  signs  of  rejoicing  at  the  happy  conclu- 
sion of  the  perilous  ice-navigation  and  intended 
to  show  that  they  felt  at  home. 

The  noise  died  away.  Willing  hands  furled 
the  stiff  sails;  yards  were  braced  square,  boats 
manned  and  cast  off;  and  with  the  harpooner  in 
the  stern  steering  the  sharp-lined  whale-boat  with 
a  long  oar,  with  the  skipper  on  the  stern  thwart 
and  six  active  men  to  row,  the  light  craft  shot 
towards  land — where  the  kayaks  were  steering  al- 


32  Frozen  Justice 

ready,  where  the  women's  boats  lay,  and  where  the 
population  of  Nuwuk  was  assembled. 

There  are  lively  times  here  in  the  world's 
nothernmost  market  when  the  advanced  guard 
of  civilization  comes  in  contact  with  the  natives; 
but  today  is  given  up  to  friendship  and  not  to  busi- 
ness— it  is  a  day  for  looking  up  old  acquaintances. 

Weatherbeaten,  broad-shouldered  seamen  with 
long  hair  and  beards  stroll  around  looking  about 
them.  They  nod  to  all  the  natives  they  meet,  say 
a  word  or  two  to  the  men  and  chuck  the  women 
playfully  under  the  chin;  they  stick  their  heads 
without  ceremony  into  the  tents  and  calmly  roll  in 
among  the  Eskimo  crowd,  where  they  make  no 
bones  about  cuddling  the  only  too  willing  Eskimo 
girls.  What  does  it  matter? — it's  only  the 
white  man's  right  when  he  mixes  with  the  natives. 

Things  get  lively  ashore;  the  white  man's 
wonder-working  liquor  is  already  beginning  to 
take  effect.  The  strangers  stand  treat  without 
stint,  and  the  Eskimos  accept  greedily,  both  men 
and  women,  even  children  get  a  drop;  so  it  is  not 
very  long  before  all  restraint  is  thrown  off  and 
the  light  polar  night  is  witness  to  the  wildest 
orgies. 

There  are  quarrels  and  fights;  old,  long-forgot- 
ten bones  of  contention  are  dug  up  again.  One 
maddened  Eskimo  tears  up  and  down  with  blood- 
shot eyes — he  has  a   spear  in  his  hand  and  is 


Frozen  Justice  33 

hunting  for  a  man  who  is  his  daily  chum,  but 
who  once,  a  long,  long  time  ago,  insulted  him. 
They  meet,  the  spear  flies  through  the  air— yes, 
it's  a  dangerous  thing  to  be  about  in  Nuwuk  when 
the  drink  has  got  in — it  draws  blood. 

The  white  seamen  fight  among  themselves  or 
with  the  Eskimos — with  injured  husbands  whose 
women  have  been  too  obliging  or  have  been  un- 
able to  withstand  the  white  men's  presents.  Hell 
is  loose  in  peaceable  Nuwuk — the  natives 
are  transformed;  but  at  last  the  din 
dies  down:  men  and  women,  stupefied 
with  whisky,  lie  stretched  on  the  soft 
mossy  carpet,  sleeping  heavily  and  uneasily 
— the  drunkard's  sleep.  And  from  the  ships, 
riding  peacefully  at  anchor,  come  hoarse  cries, 
now  and  then  the  sound  of  a  shot — it  is  an  old 
custom  to  celebrate  the  arrival  at  Nuwuk  with 
drink  and  riot.  For  twenty-four  hours  the  whal- 
er's iron  discipline  is  relaxed;  and  next  day  one 
or  other  oblong  bundle  of  sailcloth  is  slipped  into 
the  sea,  while  every  ship's  flag  is  half-masted 
and  the  yards  hang  as  best  they  can — whisky  has 
claimed  its  victims  among  the  rag-tag  and  bob- 
tail of  the  whaling  fleet. 

But  scarcely  has  the  last  splash  died  away  be- 
fore the  flags  are  run  up — now,  look  alive  there ! 
brace  the  yards  square  1  the  spree's  over,  work  is 
starting  again. 


34         Frozen  Justice 

For  a  week  the  whaling  fleet  lay  off  Nuwuk 
while  trading  went  on  ashore.  Boat  after  boat 
rowed  in  from  the  ships,  and  willing  hands  landed 
great  bales  of  cloth,  costly  sacks  of  flour,  weap- 
ons, beads,  mirrors  and  many  other  things, 
bringing  them  to  the  skippers,  each  of  whom,  as- 
sisted by  a  couple  of  mates,  was  bargaining  and 
chaffering  with  half  a  hundred  natives. 

This  is  a  slow  way  of  doing  business,  for 
everybody  has  to  put  his  oar  in  even  if  he  has  no 
share  in  the  bargain,  but  it  gets  done  somehow, 
and  boats  row  back  to  the  ships,  filled  to  the  gun- 
wale with  whalebone,  oil  and  bundles  of  skins. 

Sakhawachiak  sat  far  from  the  others,  alone; 
only  Igluruk  was  with  him,  and  some  half-score 
of  whites.  He  was  doing  business  too,  but  in  a 
more  rational  way;  his  forehead  was  wrinkled 
and  he  was  sweating  from  the  unaccustomed  la- 
bour— of  thinking;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it, 
since  he  had  far  the  biggest  stock  of  whalebone 
and  skins  and  had  to  keep  his  wits  about  him. 
He  would  have  to  support  some  fifty  men  during 
the  coming  year;  he  had  to  buy  goods  to  barter 
with  the  natives  when  the  whalers  were  gone. 
Nothing  must  be  forgotten,  for  when  the  ships 
left  Nuwuk  it  would  be  another  year  before  the 
white  man's  wonders  could  be  had  again. 

Bundle  after  bundle  of  whalebone  and  skins 
changed  hands,  while  behind  Sakhawachiak  rose 


Frozen  Justice  35 

piles  of  flour  and  sugar,  ship's  biscuits,  cloth, 
knives,  saws,  weapons,  gaudy  beads,  looking-glas- 
ses— even  an  accordion  lay  among  the  heap,  which 
contained  everything  an  Eskimo  could  desire. 
And  every  time  trading  seemed  to  be  finished, 
more  skins  and  more  whalebone  arrived,  until  at 
last  Sakhawachiak  had  exhausted  his  stock;  then 
he  got  up,  nodded  to  the  assembled  seamen,  and 
went  up  to  his  tent  accompanied  by  Igluruk — 
business  was  over.  Ten  or  a  dozen  skippers  and 
mates  were  left  sitting  on  the  beach,  looking  at 
each  other  in  silence.  Then  one  of  them  got  up 
slowly  and  stretched  himself — a  hell  of  a  fellow, 
that  Sakhawachiak,  he  gets  more  difficult  to  deal 
with  every  year.  Look  at  his  stacks  of  whale- 
bone! what  sense  is  there  in  a  native  making  all 
that  money? 

Everybody  is  tired,  worn  out  by  all  the  trading, 
drinking  and  debauchery  and  quite  glad  there  is 
nothing  left  to  trade  with.  Tomorrow  the 
fleet  will  go  whaling,  right  out  to  the  pack-ice, 
which  in  good  summers  can  just  be  seen  above  the 
horizon;  but  before  that  there  is  to  be  a  feast  on 
board.  All  the  inhabitants  of  Nuwuk  are  invited 
to  a  festive  evening,  both  men  and  women — 
especially  the  latter. 

It  is  a  wild  night  afloat,  with  drinking  going  on 
till  morning.  Families  get  split  up;  men  can't 
find  their  women,  mothers  can't  find  their  chil- 


36  Frozen  Justice 

dren;  the  ships  are  full  of  shouts  and  shrieks — the 
advance  guard  of  civilization  is  giving  the  natives 
a  lesson  in  white  men's  manners  and  morals. 
Wild  orgies  go  on  in  cabin  and  fo'c'stle — sailors 
are  a  bad  lot,  but  whalers  are  worse,  the  very 
worst  scourings;  almost  all  of  them  poor  devils 
who  have  been  shanghaied — wake  up  one  fine 
morning  in  a  stinking  whaler's  fo'c'stle  with  a 
splitting  headache — wake  up  to  life  so  hard,  so 
coarse  and  so  brutal  that  many  of  them  jump 
overboard  before  the  cruise  is  at  end.  And  by 
now  they  have  been  tyrannized  over  so  long  that 
they  enjoy  being  able  to  tyrannize  over  others — 
they  force  struggling  women  to  yield  and  fell 
protesting  men  to  the  deck. 

The  ships  go  whaling  with  Nuwuk  as  their 
station.  They  cruise  up  and  down  the  pack-ice 
with  a  look-out  at  every  masthead,  whence  keen- 
sighted  men  incessantly  sweep  the  sea  with  their 
eyes;  and  woe  to  the  whale  that  comes  within  their 
view.  "She  spouts!" — that  is  the  signal  for  the 
hunt  to  begin;  the  skipper  goes  aloft,  boats  are 
swung  out  level  with  the  rail,  the  engines  are 
stopped,  and  under  sail  only  the  vessel  manoeuvres 
towards  the  unsuspecting  whale.  An  order  is 
shouted  from  the  masthead:  "Lower  away!" — 
six  boats  take  the  water  simultaneously,  and  sheer 
off  from  the  ship  with  the  harpooner  in  the  bow, 


Frozen  Justice  37 

the  coxswain  in  the  sternsheets,  and  six  men  at  the 
oars. 

A  new  hand  funks,  then  jumps — too  late,  and 
falls  between  the  ship's  side  and  the  boat.  One  sec- 
ond, and  he'll  be  hauled  up — but  no;  the  whale 
can't  be  replaced  but  the  man  can — or  anyhow  he 
can  be  spared,  so  the  boat  sheers  off.  If  his  ship- 
mates protest,  they  get  no  answer,  or  if  they  do, 
it  is  short,  sharp  and  to  the  point:  "Pull  away 
there  and  hold  your  noise — there's  no  shortage  of 
seamen." 

If  the  whale  is  taken,  it  is  towed  in  to  the 
the  coast,  where  several  ships  are  always  lying, 
their  crews  busily  engaged  in  cutting  off  the  huge 
beast's  head,  heaving  it  on  board  and  cutting  out 
the  whalebone.  Then  the  body  is  flayed,  the 
blubber  cut  into  pieces  and  stowed  away  in  large 
tanks  or  barrels,  and  the  carcase,  weighing  fifty 
tons  or  so,  is  set  adrift;  the  ship  is  cleaned  up, 
boats  hoisted,  the  anchor  weighed,  and  with  a  dip 
of  the  flag  and  a  blast  from  the  siren  the  vessel 
heads  out  to  sea  again  in  pursuit  of  the  precious 
whale. 

But  summer  is  waning — it  does  not  last  long 
at  Nuwuk.  The  sun  is  low  in  the  sky  and  gives 
no  more  warmth;  it  no  longer  has  the  strength 
to  thaw  the  big  snowdrifts  that  cover  the  shore. 

The  ships  still  come  in  to  the  coast  with  whales 


38  Frozen  Justice 

in  tow,  but  they  are  coated  with  ice.  There  is 
ice  on  the  ship's  sides  and  the  deck  is  buried  under 
ice  and  blood;  the  rigging  hangs  heavy  with 
rime,  and  every  time  the  crew  touch  a  rope,  big 
icicles  fall  on  deck  with  a  crash.  The  sails  are 
frozen  stiff,  and  the  crew  are  in  low  spirits;  they 
are  always  cold,  underfed,  overworked,  bullied 
night  and  day. 

Voices  are  raised  in  protest,  but  the  ship  is  full 
of  officers  aft — a  handspike  on  the  head  is  their 
cure  for  a  bad  temper — a  shot  if  that  doesn't  work 
— and  in  the  evening  skipper  and  mate  bend  over 
the  cabin  table  embellishing  the  log-book  with 
such  items  as  this : — "John  Brown,  A.  B.,  died  to- 
day after  three  days'  acute  pneumonia." 

One  day  the  ice  set  in  towards  land,  autumn 
was  beginning  in  earnest.  One  ship  after  another 
had  left  the  whaling-grounds  and  headed  south- 
ward to  milder  climes,  but  the  rest  of  the  fleet 
was  still  making  a  good  catch  and  remained  at 
Nuwuk  until  it  was  impossible  to  stay  any  longer. 

One  ship  was  crushed  in  the  ice  and  her  crew 
was  distributed  among  the  other  vessels;  but  one 
fine  morning  the  Eskimos  awoke  to  see  the  steam- 
whaler  Bowhead  high  and  dry  with  her  star- 
board side  crushed.  Jones,  the  skipper,  was  still 
drunk — so  drunk  that  he  stayed  on  the  bridge 
navigating  the  ship;  he  shouted  orders  against 
the  cutting  wind,  over  his  doomed  vessel,  and, 


Frozen  Justice  39 

when  he  saw  the  hands  at  work,  thought  they 
were  carrying  out  his  commands,  whereas  they 
were  only  saving  their  own  skins  and  leaving  their 
skipper  to  his  fate.  He  deserved  it:  three 
times  the  mate  had  warned  him  that  the  ice  was 
moving  landward,  the  fourth  time  he  tried  to 
shake  some  sense  into  the  madman.  .  .  .  "What 
do  you  say,  Mr.  Moore,  is  the  ice  coming? — 
Well,  let  it  come.  .  .  .  What's  it  got  to  do  with 
me?  I  was  here  first!"  .  .  .  and  then  he  shut 
himself  in  with  his  whisky  keg  while  the  vessel 
drove  ashore  and  fortunes  were  lost. 

Then  it  was  time  to  get  clear  of  the  place  if 
they  were  to  save  ships  and  freight.  The  Bow- 
head's  crew  was  divided  among  the  remaining 
ships,  now  much  overmanned,  and  the  fleet  steered 
southward,  disappearing  in  the  driving  snow. 

Behind  them  in  barren  Nuwuk  they  left  the 
Eskimos.  Winter  had  begun  and  they  were 
badly  prepared  for  it.  .  .  .  Life  with  the  whalers 
had  left  its  traces — the  last  fumes  of  spirits  had 
not  yet  evaporated,  but  there  was  worse,  far 
worse  than  that:  intercourse  with  the  whalers  had 
brought  diseases  upon  men  and  women;  diseases 
of  which  the  natives  had  had  some  experience  from 
previous  visits  but  against  which  they  had  no 
remedy. 

The  ships  were  gone,  autumn  had  set  in,  but 
they  were  no  longer  alone  as  before — three  white 


40  Frozen  Justice 

men  had  stayed  behind  in  the  settlement.  Two 
of  them  were  sailors  who  had  deserted  from  the 
fleet  and  hidden  ashore;  but  now  they  came  out, 
certain  that  punishment  could  no  longer  reach 
them.  Their  names  were  Jim  Hacklet  and  Joe 
— Black  Joe  his  shipmates  had  called  him — and 
Black  Joe  the  Eskimos  called  him  now. 

The  third  man  was  of  a  type  hitherto  unknown 
to  the  Eskimos.  He  was  white  and  spoke  the 
white  men's  language,  but  there  the  resemblance 
ended.  The  others,  the  two  from  the  whaling 
ships,  cursed  and  swore,  drank  and  fought — but 
he  was  quiet,  went  peaceably  about  and  conversed 
with  the  natives.  He  sat  among  the  groups  of 
women  and  played  with  the  children;  he  did  not 
drink;  on  the  contrary  they  had  often  heard  him 
speak  incomprehensible  words  to  the  half-drunk 
seamen  and  seen  him  stop  them  giving  whisky  to 
the  Eskimos.  He  brought  no  diseases,  but  was 
often  in  the  tents  of  the  sick;  he  gave  them  medi- 
cine and  tried  to  remedy  his  countrymen's  mis- 
deeds, and  up  and  down  the  coast  the  natives 
talked  about  the  quiet  white  man.  Their  tongues 
could  scarcely  manage  his  difficult  name — "Mis- 
sionary" they  called  him  and  thought  that  was  his 
name,  and  it  was  not  till  long  afterwards  that  they 
learnt  what  he  was  really  called — Hastings, 
christian  name  Edward,  Nuwuk's  first  missionary. 

And  peace   sank  down  upon  the   settlement, 


Frozen  Justice  41 

while  the  sun  continually  waned.  The  Eskimos 
— all  except  the  sick  ones — had  nearly  forgotten 
the  dissipations  of  the  summer  and  believed  that 
everything  would  go  on  just  the  same  as  in  for- 
mer years,  but  they  were  mistaken.  Civilization 
had  made  its  entry  into  Nuwuk;  its  pioneers  were 
planted  there;  a  new  era  was  about  to  open. 

Out  of  the  wreck  of  the  Bowhead  Jim 
Hacklet  and  Black  Joe  had  built  themselves  a 
house,  and  far  from  them  Mr.  Hastings  lived 
in  Sakhawachiak's  iglo. 


Ill 

DISCORD  arose  in  Nuwuk  when  the 
white  men  settled  there,  and  the  trouble 
began  as  soon  as  the  whalers  had  left 
the  station  and  Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe  came 
out  of  hiding. 

Formerly  stranded  goods  had  been  every  man's 
property,  and  the  Eskimos  had  rejoiced  in  antici- 
pation when  the  Bowhead  was  driven  ashore, 
crushed  in  the  giant  arms  of  the  ice.  For  there 
were  provisions  on  board  in  enormous  quantities, 
there  were  ropes  enough  for  the  most  lavish 
needs  of  the  settlement,  there  were  sails  that 
would  make  fine  big  tents,  arms  and  ammunition 
beyond  the  most  sanguine  expectations,  there  was 
timber — in  fact,  all  that  could  be  wished  for, 
even  goods  for  trading  with,  such  as  enterprising 
travellers  could  barter  for  whalebone  and  skins 
from  distant  places. 

So  there  was  plenty  to  help  one's  self  to,  and 
after  the  men  of  the  settlement  had  helped  the 
two  runaway  sailors  to  build  a  hut,  they  toiled 
for  weeks  together — assisted  by  women  and 
children — at  salving  as  much  as  possible  of  the 
late  Bowhead  and  her  marvels. 

4* 


Frozen  Justice         43 

One  night  the  ice  packed  suddenly  round 
Nuwuk,  and  when  the  sun  rose  the  Bowhead 
had  vanished,  smashed  to  bits  or  carried  away 
by  the  ice;  nobody  knew  or  cared  which,  for  on 
the  beach  lay  more  goods  and  gear  than  had 
ever  been  seen  there  before — now  it  would  be 
divided,  and  they  could  look  forward  to  the  hard 
winter  without  fear  of  hunger  or  want. 

But  then  discord  began  in  peaceful  Nuwuk,  and 
it  was  the  white  men  who  started  it. 

It  was  a  fine  autumn  morning — perfectly  still 
and  clear — cold,  of  course,  but  the  people  of 
Nuwuk  did  not  mind  that;  they  were  all  up 
with  the  first  rays  of  the  sun — all  in  a  hurry  to 
get  down  to  the  shore,  to  the  immense  quantities 
of  goods  piled  up  there — now  they  would  get  the 
reward  for  all  their  work. 

But  Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe  were  there  be- 
fore the  first  of  them.  When  all  the  inhabitants 
were  assembled,  and  according  to  ancient  and 
time-honoured  custom  Sakhawachiak — like  his 
father  and  grandfather  before  him — stepped  up 
to  the  piles  to  distribute  their  contents,  the  two 
white  worthies  barred  his  way.  "Sakhawachiak, 
my  friend,  what  do  you  want  here?"  Jim 
laughed  at  him,  with  a  look  in  his  eyes  that  spelt 
mischief. 

"To  take  what  is  mine  and  give  the  others  the 
rest,"  was  Sakhawachiak's  gentle  reply;  "that  is 


44         Frozen  Justice 

our  way  here ;  that  is  what  we  have  always  done 
and  will  do  again,  but  you  two  strangers  and  Mr. 
Hastings  shall  have  your  share.  That  is  the 
custom  of  Nuwuk." 

But  Jim  laughed  and  Black  Joe  laughed  with 
him.  "Look  at  this  nigger!  Does  he  think  he's 
going  to  teach  us  what  to  do  with  salvaged  goods? 
No,  my  friend,  nothing  doing;  that's  not  the  white 
man's  custom.     The  goods  are  ours." 

The  Eskimos  made  a  great  noise,  shouted, 
threatened,  begged,  but  none  of  it  was  any  good. 
The  white  men  had  their  own  law,  which  was 
easy  to  understand,  even  for  the  natives,  being 
quite  free  of  all  beating  about  the  bush — and 
the  law,  as  interpreted  by  the  two  worthies  was 
briefly  this :  Once  white  man's  property,  always 
white  man's  property,  so  long  as  there  are  white 
men  to  claim  it. 

"See  here,  that's  white  man's  law,"  the  two 
declared;  "so  it  is  all  over  the  world.  So  now 
you  see  that  we  have  a  right  to  all  this  here." 

The  Eskimos  didn't  quite  see  this  and  weapons 
came  out.  But  Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe  had 
thought  of  that  too.  "This  stuff's  ours,"  they 
exclaimed;  "touch  it  if  you  dare.  The  first  man 
who  comes  forward  will  be  shot." 

And  there  ended  the  first  dispute.  The  Eski- 
mos withdrew  and  all  the  men  assembled  in  the 
biggest  iglo  to  talk  things  over.     It  sounded  all 


Frozen  Justice         45 

right,  what  the  white  men  said;  and  yet  the 
natives  seemed  to  have  a  right  to  their  share. 

Sakhawachiak  was  brief.  He  did  not  know 
the  white  men's  law,  but  still  he  had  seen  enough 
of  the  white  men's  ways  to  know  that  they  were 
governed  by  other  considerations  than  the  na- 
tives of  primitive  Nuwuk.  Let  them  keep  it, 
was  his  advice;  up  to  now  we  have  kept  on  good 
terms  with  the  whites,  and  perhaps  they  are  right, 
those  two  down  in  the  hut.  We  have  managed 
before  without  stranded  goods  and  wreckage;  we 
shall  manage  all  right  again. 

So  the  end  of  the  palaver  was  that  Black  Joe 
and  Jim  Hacklet  kept  what  the  sea,  the  ice  and 
Jones's  drinking  propensities  had  bestowed  upon 
Nuwuk  and  its  whole  population;  they  had  re- 
joiced over  the  gift,  but  relinquished  it  of  their 
own  free  will  rather  than  quarrel  with  the  whites. 

And  winter  came. 

Again  the  Eskimos  sat  assembled  in  big  iglos 
listening  to  the  angekok's  stories  about  all  the 
strange  things  that  happened  in  old  days:  about 
fearsome  legendary  creatures,  about  cruel  punish- 
ments which  befell  men  and  women  who  trans- 
gressed the  commandments  of  the  community. 
They  heard  of  the  brother  who  long,  long  ago  de- 
sired his  sister,  and  as  a  punishment  pursues  her 
to  this  day,  far  from  the  first  scene  of  his  crime — 
now  in  the  sky,  as  sun  and  moon,  which  eternally 


46         Frozen  Justice 

fly  and  pursue  each  other,  without  ever  getting 
nearer.  The  old  women  shook  their  heads,  while 
the  men  nodded  their  full  approval  of  the  gods' 
punishment;  but  young  eyes  met  and  smiled — 
can  the  gods,  can  they  really  be  so  severe? 

And  the  angekok  told,  in  low  and  monotonous 
notes,  the  legends  he  had  told  a  hundred  times 
before.  He  told  of  robbery,  rapine  and  murder, 
and  of  their  punishments;  he  told  of  the  dead 
who  cry  by  night,  and  made  his  audience  shud- 
der; he  told  of  the  man  in  the  moon  and  his  wife, 
horrid  folk,  with  a  whole  store  of  unborn  chil- 
dren who  can  only  be  fetched  from  the  moon  by 
his  aid — he  told  of  many  other  things,  of  the 
northern  lights,  the  glorious,  ever  restless,  ever 
shifting  lights  of  the  Polar  Night,  now  dim,  now 
bright — how  they  are  children  at  play,  dead 
children  amusing  themselves  at  a  game  of  ball; 
so  that  sorrowing  parents  might  know  that  they 
were  happy,  when  they  could  play  like  that. 

And  the  natives  listened;  naked  or  half-naked 
they  sat  around  the  story-teller,  while  the  train- 
oil  lamps  shed  a  sleepy  light  over  the  company, 
who,  half  asleep,  took  in  almost  unconsciously  the 
monotonous  sound  of  the  angekok's  voice.  Sud- 
denly they  would  sit  up,  their  eyes  awake  and 
sparkling:  "Begin  again,  Uyarak;  begin  again, 
you've  forgotten  something!" — for  they  had  all 
heard  the  stories  so  often  that  they  knew  them  by 


Frozen  Justice         47 

heart;  there  was  really  no  need  for  Uyarak  to  re- 
count them,  but  of  course  it  was  his  business,  it 
was  what  he  was  there  for — but  then  he  must 
really  take  pains  to  stick  to  the  story  exactly  as 
they  had  heard  it  when  they  themselves  were  tiny 
children  and  could  just  understand,  and  as  they 
had  heard  it  since,  a  hundred  times  or  more. 

In  another  hut  sat  Mr.  Hastings;  he  was  also 
telling  stories,  but  to  a  smaller  circle.  He  was 
telling  of  a  Child  who  was  called  Jesus,  and  who, 
born  of  a  woman,  came  to  earth  to  save  its  people, 
who  were  sunk  in  ignorance  and  heathenism.  He 
told  of  the  white  man's  God,  the  great  all-seeing, 
all-knowing,  almighty  Deity,  to  whom  nothing 
is  impossible — and  the  Eskimos  listened,  but  they 
could  not  understand,  could  not  make  out  how 
a  being  could  see,  know  and  hear  everything  not 
only  at  Nuwuk,  but  at  Point  Hope  and  far,  far 
away,  right  into  the  land  of  the  Kokmoliks. 
They  thought  it  was  impossible,  nor  could  they 
understand  how  anything  could  look  down  at 
them  through  the  earthen  roof  of  the  iglo — and 
certainly  not  how  any  one  could  know  what 
people  were  thinking. 

They  couldn't  take  it  in;  they  shook  their  heads. 
What  kind  of  stories  were  these  the  man  was 
telling?  The  like  had  never  been  heard  at 
Nuwuk — surely  they  must  be  lies? 

And  Hastings  went  on.    He  told  of  a  life  after 


48         Frozen  Justice 

death — inconceivable  idea!  Death  was  death, 
wasn't  it? — then  how  could  one  come  to  life 
again?  But  here  was  this  stranger  talking  about 
a  new  and  better  life  than  that  we  live  on  earth; 
about  heaven,  where  all  is  bright  and  beautiful 
and  where  the  good  people  go;  and  then  about 
hell — chiefly  about  hell,  where  the  wicked  shall 
live  a  long  time,  an  everlasting  time,  in  heat, 
flames  and  eternal  fire.  They  gave  sly  looks  at 
one  another  and  hugged  themselves  in  pleasur- 
able anticipation;  it  was  so  cold  outside,  the  north 
wind  was  howling  and  the  snow  driving  thick  and 
fast — Mr.  Hastings's  hearers  preferred  the  ever- 
warm  hell  to  the  good  people's  heaven:  so  why 
be  good? 

But  Mr.  Hastings  kept  on  with  his  stories,  re- 
peating them  again  and  again;  he  told  beautiful 
tales  about  what  he  called  pious  men  and  women; 
he  told  about  God  and  all  that  He  has  done,  the 
story  of  the  Creation,  and  much,  much  more.  It 
all  sounded  so  incredible,  and  the  natives  scarcely 
knew  what  to  believe.  For  in  other  things  Mr. 
Hastings  was  a  man  to  be  trusted;  these  were  at 
any  rate  new  stories,  better  than  Uyarak's,  and 
they  drew.  Night  after  night  more  and  more 
Eskimos  collected  in  Sakhawachiak's  hut  to  lis- 
ten to  the  missionary,  and  the  fame  of  the  new 
story-teller  spread  over  Nuwuk  and  its  neighbour- 
hood. 


Frozen  Justice  49 

He  stormed  against  Uyarak  and  his  faithful 
congregation;  gave  him  the  attributes  of  the 
Devil  and  warned  all  men  to  beware  of  him;  he 
declared  all  the  stories  Uyarak  told  about  old 
days  and  vengeance  for  crimes  committed  to  Be 
untrue  and  heathenish.  No — Moses,  a  man  who 
lived  long,  long  ago,  had  talked  with  God  and 
had  received  of  Him  knowledge  of  how  men 
ought  to  live,  what  they  should  do  and  what  they 
may  not  do.  There  were  only  ten  commandments 
against  Uyarak' s  hundreds  of  stories — transgress 
none  of  them  and  you  are  sure  of  heaven;  yield 
to  temptation  and  forget  but  one  of  these  com- 
mandments and  there  was  no  escaping  hell. 

Thus  spoke  Mr.  Hastings;  they  did  not  under- 
stand much  to  begin  with,  and  now  a  good  deal 
less.  "Friend  Hastings" — it  was  Sakhawachiak 
who  asked — "do  you  never  lie?" 

"I?     No,  never." 

Sakhawachiak  pondered.  .  .  .  "Hastings,  my 
friend,  do  you  white  men  live  together  with 
women  as  we  do — have  you  each  a  woman  at 
home  in  your  iglo,  who  waits  on  you  with  food, 
tans  your  skins  and  makes  your  clothes?" 

"Yes,"  Hastings  answered,  "we  have.  Just 
like  you,  we  have  our  women  too." 

"Hastings,"  Sakhawachiak  went  on;  "you  know 
that  Igluruk  is  my  woman  and  I  am  fond  of  her. 
But  it  sometimes  happens  that  I  have  been  in 


50         Frozen  Justice 

places  or  have  seen  or  done  something  that  Ig- 
luruk  is  not  to  know.  Then  I  say  nothing;  but 
if  she  asks  and  insists  on  an  answer — well,  then 
she  gets  it,  but  not  the  right  one ;  for  it  is  a  man's 
right  to  judge  what  is  best  for  a  woman.  Why 
should  I  make  Igluruk  unhappy?  Why  should 
she  be  needlessly  vexed?  No,  it's  far  better  that 
I  should  tell  her  a  lie,  only  a  little  one,  as  little 
as  possible,  but  still  enough  to  keep  her  happy 
and  hide  from  her  what  would  bring  tears  to  her 
eyes.  That  is  our  way,  you  see,  and  that  is  how 
our  women  are.  Are  you  whites  different  from 
us,  and  are  your  women  different?  I'm  sure 
I've  met  white  men  who  have  lied,  and  lied  when 
there  was  no  need." 

"Yes,"  Hastings  explained;  "that  is  lying. 
Everything  that  is  not  the  whole  truth  is  a  lie, 
whether  it  be  said  with  good  intent  or  not.  We 
must  not  do  it;  the  commandments  must  be  kept 
strictly,  or  else  we  shall  go  to  hell." 

"So  you  say,"  protested  Sakhawachiak;  "but 
then  we  shall  all  go  to  hell.  For  I  tell  you — we 
have  got  to  lie;  we  can't  get  on  with  our  women 
without  it,  nor  with  others  either.  But  tell  me, 
Hastings,  what  then?  Why  must  we  keep  the 
other  nine  commandments  when  we  are  forced 
daily  to  break  the  one?  We  shall  go  to  hell  any- 
how, according  to  what  you  say;  we  shall  get 


Frozen  Justice  51 

punished  whether  we  kill  a  man  or  not,  or  do  any 
of  the  other  bad  things.  .  .  .  No,  Hastings,  I 
think  what  Uyarak  says  is  better:  he  says  there 
is  one  punishment  for  each  offence;  that  is  just, 
that  we  can  understand." 

The  Eskimos  glanced  furtively  at  one  another 
and  smiled — for  Sakhawachiak  had  expressed  ex- 
actly what  they  all  felt.  Poor  Mr.  Hastings;  it 
is  so  difficult  to  thump  the  white  man's  morality 
into  native  heads,  particularly  difficult  when  the 
natives  know  the  white  men  well — almost  impos- 
sible when  those  whites  are  whalers — and  quite 
impossible  when  a  pair  of  them  like  Jim  Hacklet 
and  Black  Joe  are  living  amongst  the  natives; 
they  laughed  at  the  missionary,  made  fun  of  his 
religion,  and  their  manner  of  life  at  Nuwuk  did 
no  credit  to  the  white  man's  doctrine. 

For  the  two  sailors  felt  themselves  free  and 
unfettered.  For  the  first  time  in  their  lives  they 
were  under  no  restraint  or  compulsion  of  su- 
periors or  of  society;  they  had  masses  of  food, 
spirits  by  the  gallon  and  trading  goods  in  great 
demand,  so  they  had  all  they  desired,  or  else  they 
could  buy  it,  either  with  good  things — the  won- 
derful stores  from  the  wreck  of  the  Bowhead — 
or  with  evil — whisky. 

They  had  bought  women  who  lived  with  them 
in  their  house:  dressed  up,  bedizened,  frightful 


52  Frozen  Justice 

to  look  at,  hung  all  over  with  beads  and  bits  of 
glass,  tricked  out  till  they  scarcely  deserved  the 
name  of  women. 

These  creatures  had  given  up  their  good,  old- 
fashioned  furs  for  modern  clothes;  instead  of 
the  anorak  they  now  had  a  bodice,  and  airy  skirts 
replaced  the  warm  breeches.  They  had  tied 
handkerchiefs  round  their  heads — one  crude 
colour  screaming  louder  than  another  of  foolish- 
ness, absurdity,  barbaric  love  of  finery,  while  the 
women  froze  so  that  their  teeth  chattered. 

The  women  were  smart — and  envied;  they  had 
everything  that  other  women  had  to  pay  through 
the  nose  for;  and  when  they  went  strolling 
through  Nuwuk,  where  such  a  show  had  never 
been  seen  before,  there  was  not  a  woman  who  did 
not  wish  herself  in  their  shoes. 

But  when  the  short  day  closed  in,  the  worst 
characters  in  Nuwuk  came  to  make  merry  in  the 
hut — now  called  "Bowhead"  after  the  crushed 
ship  and  with  her  name-plate  over  the  door. 
They  ate  and  drank,  and  deep  men's  voices  and 
shrill  women's  cries  were  heard  through  the  clear 
frosty  night.  Black  Joe  played  the  guitar — he 
had  taken  it  ashore  with  him  when  he  deserted 
— and  they  danced  to  its  tinkling  notes;  danced 
as  long  as  they  could  keep  it  up,  drank  till  they 
knew  nothing  more;  the  lamp  went  out,  hosts 
and  guests  slept  in  a  heap,  and  next  morning  half- 


Frozen  Justice  53 

stupefied  natives  reeled  home  to  their  iglos,  to 
their  men  or  their  women,  only  to  meet  again 
in  the  evening  under  "Bowhead's"  hospitable  roof 
for  new  bouts  of  eating  and  drinking,  for  dancing 
and  orgies. 

They  were  days  of  conflict  at  Nuwuk;  the 
white  men  had  got  in.  In  the  biggest  of  the 
huts  sat  Uyarak  telling  old  tales  and  legends; 
he  impressed  on  his  audience  that  all  the  evil 
spirits  would  harry  those  who  set  foot  in  Sakha- 
wachiak's  iglo,  where  Mr.  Hastings  was  preach- 
ing the  Gospel  and  denouncing  Uyarak  as  the 
spokesman  of  the  past  age  and  heathenism;  while 
Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe  and  all  their  crew 
seemed  to  be  devils  incarnate. 

Nuwuk  was  divided,  and  it  was  the  white 
men's  work.  The  inhabitants  were  parted  Lito 
three  camps,  each  of  which  hated  the  others  and 
went  its  own  way:  towards  superstition,  towards 
the  light,  or  towards  destruction. 

Once  more  the  sun  shone  from  a  clear  sky  and 
the  whale  turned  northward  on  his  annual  migra- 
tion to  safe  and  well-stocked  seas,  where  he  could 
disport  himself  in  peace  and  without  fear;  but 
first  he  had  to  pass  Nuwuk,  and  there  lay  umiak 
after  umiak  ready  to  hunt  the  mighty  beast. 

There  was  life  and  jollity  out  on  the  ice  by  the 
open  coast  water,  where  the  struggle  for  exist- 


54         Frozen  Justice 

ence  was  being  fought  out  as  it  had  been  for 
centuries.  But  there  too  there  was  discord — 
for,  though  Sakhawachiak  of  all  the  natives  was 
still  the  one  who  owned  most  umiaks  and  had 
most  men  in  his  pay,  Uyarak  and  has  party  had 
now  formed  a  boat's  crew,  and  Black  Joe  and 
Jim  Hacklet  had  no  less  than  three  umiaks  out 
after  whale. 

They  did  not  work  together  as  before,  but  got 
in  each  other's  way  and  scared  the  whale  away 
from  the  other  boats'  crews  whenever  there  was 
a  chance;  and  many  a  whale,  which  in  former 
years  would  have  succumbed  to  the  combined 
efforts  of  the  Eskimos,  now  got  safely  past 
Nuwuk. 

When  the  season  was  over,  they  had  only  a 
poor  result  to  show  for  all  their  toil,  for  the 
quantity  of  whalebone  collected  ashore  was  only 
half  what  they  usually  got,  and  each  party  put 
the  blame  on  the  others.  The  rift  in  Nuwuk's 
harmony  which  had  opened  in  the  winter  widened 
more  and  more  during  the  spring  season,  when- 
ever the  anxious  natives  looked  upon  the  poor 
results  of  their  whaling. 

Summer  came,  the  time  for  the  arrival  of  the 
whaling  fleet  was  at  hand,  but  as  yet  no  one  had 
seen  a  mast  on  the  horizon  or  smoke  over  the 
white  ice-floes. 

And  the  rift  went  on  widening.     Uyarak  de- 


Frozen  Justice  55 

clared  that  he  had  talked  with  the  angry  gods, 
who  were  holding  the  ice  fast  to  the  shore  in 
order  to  punish  the  apostates  who  flocked  around 
Mr.  Hastings  with  eager  prayers  to  God  for 
open  water.  These  latter  hated  more  and  more 
the  ungodly,  whose  fault  it  all  was,  since  they 
would  not  listen  to  God's  Word  or  see  His  guid- 
ance in  the  trials  which  beset  Nuwuk,  undoubt- 
edly as  a  punishment  for  not  having  received  His 
teaching.  Now  He  was  taking  vengeance — the 
white  man's  God — upon  all  the  ungodly  who  re- 
sorted to  Uyarak,  to  Black  Joe  and  Jim  Hacklet. 

White  men's  food  began  to  get  scarce,  and 
anxiety  increased  from  day  to  day,  while  the  ice 
lay  still  and  immovable,  forced  on  to  the  land  by 
continual  westerly  gales,  and  no  water  was  to  be 
seen. 

Then  a  kayak  man  arrived  from  the  south, 
from  right  down  by  Cape  Lisbourne.  Every  one 
crowded  round  him  to  hear  news  of  the  whaling 
fleet,  pushing  and  elbowing  in  their  intense  excite- 
ment. 

He  brought  news,  but  it  was  not  good.  The 
whaling  fleet  had  got  jammed  in  the  ice  between 
Point  Hope  and  Cape  Lisbourne ;  first  one  vessel 
was  crushed,  then  another;  at  last  nearly  half  the 
fleet  had  gone  to  the  bottom.  The  crews  had 
been  taken  on  board  the  ships  that  were  still 
afloat,   and  these,  overmanned,  full  of  sickness 


56         Frozen  Justice 

and  short  of  provisions,  were  fighting  their  way 
out  of  the  ice,  southward-bound  for  warmer 
climes,  away  from  the  terrible  ice  which  had  taken 
so  many  ships,  crushed  so  many  hopes  and  killed 
so  many  men. 

So  the  fleet  did  not  come,  but  famine  came  in- 
stead; for  the  people  of  Nuwuk  had  grown  ac- 
customed to  depend  on  the  arrival  of  the  ships 
and  could  no  longer  get  on  without  the  food  they 
received  from  the  fleet  in  exchange  for  whalebone 
and  blubber. 

When  Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe  heard  the 
news  they  sat  for  a  while  looking  at  each  other 
as  if  they  could  not  trust  their  ears;  then  Joe 
got  up  and  went  to  the  corner  cupboard  for  a 
bottle  of  whisky,  filled  two  glasses,  one  for  him- 
self and  one  for  Jim:  "Here's  luck!"  he  said 
with  a  laugh — "Jim,  do  you  see  what  this  here 
means?  We've  got  the  chance  of  a  lifetime, 
we're  going  to  be  rich,  there's  nobody  else  in 
Nuwuk  that's  got  grub  and  store  goods.  What 
a  strike,  eh,  Jim?  When  the  fleet  comes  next 
year  we'll  clear  out  of  Nuwuk  two  gaudy  mil- 
lionaires!" 

"Yes,"  Jim  answered — "you're  right,  we  can 
do  what  we  like,  we  can  make  the  whole  squalling 
crowd  work  for  us — even  Sakhawachiak  him- 
self'll  have  to  come  here  and  buy  our  stuff,  but 
he'll  find  it  dear—" 


Frozen  Justice  57 

"Right!"  interrupted  Joe;  "so  dear  that — we'll 
break  him,  the  blighter!  Now  it's  going  to  be 
us  and  not  him  on  top  in  Nuwuk.  We'll  sweat 
him  well  for  every  scrap  he  wants.  .  .  .  Yes, 
I'll  take  his  woman  from  him  too.  Jim,  my  boy, 
I  bet  you  before  next  whaling  season  I'll  have 
Igluruk  here  in  our  hut." 

"You?"  said  Jim.  "Well,  maybe;  one  of  us'll 
get  her,  that's  likely  enough.  But  whether  it'll 
be  you — why  the  hell  should  it  be?  I've  got 
just  as  much  right  to  her  as  you." 

"Oh,  shut  it,"  snarled  Joe;  "you  know  damned 
well  I  shall  take  Igluruk.  I'm  more  of  a  beauty 
than  you — do  you  really  think  the  girl  would 
come  to  you,  with  a  face  on  you  like  that? 
Look!" — and  Joe  snatched  a  looking-glass  that 
hung  on  the  wall  and  held  it  up  before  Jim's 
face. —  "Take  a  look  at  your  mug:  do  you 
really  think  you'll  get  the  prettiest  girl  in  Nu- 
wuk?" 

Jim  had  to  admit  the  force  of  the  argument, 
for  it  was  not  a  handsome  face  that  he  saw  in  the 
glass :  a  shock  of  red  hair,  a  big  carroty  beard,  a 
nose  broken  in  a  fight  that  had  joined  up  again 
crooked,  and  finally  a  great  red  scar  under  the 
right  eye — that  was  Jim  Hacklet's  portrait. 
With  a  gesture  of  annoyance  he  knocked  aside 
the  glass  which  Joe  held  up  grinning.  "Take  it 
away,  Joe,  take  it  away.     We  needn't  talk  any 


58  Frozen  Justice 

more  about  that,  but  we're  going  to  be  rich  any- 
way— you'll  have  to  agree  with  me  there." 

And  while  there  was  sorrow  in  all  the  little 
huts  of  Nuwuk,  Black  Joe  and  Jim  Hacklet  sat 
by  themselves  and  drank  whisky,  drank  quite 
quietly  all  night,  while  they  talked  of  the  golden 
future  and  dreamed  beautiful  dreams  of  the 
power  of  money. 

It  was  the  worst  winter  Nuwuk  had  experi- 
enced for  a  long  while.  The  ice  still  lay  close  in 
to  land,  hunting  was  difficult  and  seals  were  few; 
so  when  the  sun  sank  behind  the  southern  horizon 
gilding  ice,  sky  and  snow,  the  caches  were  empty. 

Now  the  white  men  had  the  field  to  themselves, 
and  one  after  another  the  natives  went  over  to 
Jim  Hacklet  and  Joe,  who  promised  to  feed  them 
till  spring  in  return  for  their  working  for  them 
and  hunting  for  them  in  their  umiaks  when  the 
whale  was  on  the  move  again. 

One  fine  day  came  Sakhawachiak,  the  last  in- 
dependent man  in  Nuwuk.  He  wanted  to  buy 
flour  for  Igluruk,  but  couldn't  get  it.  ' 'Hullo, 
Sakhawachiak,  so  you've  come  now!"  the  white 
men  laughed.  "This  is  the  first  time  you've  been 
to  our  hut,  though  we've  been  neighbours  over 
a  year.  No,  you'll  have  to  pay  us  a  proper  visit 
and  bring  Igluruk  with  you  before  you  can  buy 
anything." 

The  woman  would  have  her  flour  and  gave 


Frozen  Justice  59 

the  wretched  man  no  peace,  so  one  evening  he 
came.  "Now  Jim,  I've  come  to  call  and  brought 
Igluruk  with  me — can  I  have  some  flour  now?" 

This  was  Sakhawachiak's  first  visit  to  the  white 
men's  house,  but  it  was  not  to  be  the  last.  He 
had  to  keep  fifty  men,  and  that  cost  a  lot.  First 
the  white  men  bought  his  whalebone  for  next 
to  nothing,  then  they  took  his  furs — but  he  came 
back,  no  longer  as  Nuwuk's  chief,  but  as  a  poor 
miserable  native  who,  with  his  sledge  full  of 
whalebone  and  splendid  furs,  begged  food  for 
himself  and  his  household. 

Igluruk  was  always  with  him,  and  this  man, 
hitherto  so  temperate,  got  more  and  more  into 
the  way  of  staying  and  drinking  with  the  whites, 
drinking  their  poison,  simply  to  forget,  to  deaden 
his  uneasiness — yet  never  so  much  that  he  could 
not  keep  an  eye  on  Igluruk;  for  it  did  not  ex- 
actly please  him  to  see  what  a  number  of  presents 
Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe  lavished  upon  his 
woman. 

His  visits  became  more  frequent  as  the  winter 
dragged  on.  Mr.  Hastings  had  left  long  ago, 
when  Nuwuk  went  on  short  commons;  he  had 
sledged  down  to  Point  Hope,  to  friends  and  food, 
and  there  was  nobody  to  hold  Sakawachiak  back, 
as  he  slipped  rapidly  downhill. 

His  whalebone  was  all  sold;  his  skins  now  lay 
in  the  house  the  whites  had  built  to  receive  the 


60  Frozen  Justice 

huge  quantity  of  goods  they  were  able  to  buy  dirt 
cheap;  he  had  now  nothing  left  but  his  five 
umiaks  and  their  gear.  If  they  went,  his  last 
hope  for  the  whaling  season  next  spring  went 
too. 

But  Igluruk  would  have  flour  and  sugar,  coffee 
and  tea;  she  liked  the  white  men's  spirits  and  their 
pretty  cloth,  and  she  worried  her  husband  till 
he  took  the  painful  step —  "What  would  they 
give  for  an  umiak  ?" 

He  got  a  couple  of  sacks  of  flour  and  lots  of 
spirits;  he  was  going  downhill,  going  fast,  with 
no  brake  on,  no  helping  hand  to  pull  him  up  in 
time.  Igluruk  would  not  do  without  the  white 
men's  treasures  and  was  now  the  woman  in  all 
Nuwuk  who  wore  the  smartest  white  man's 
clothes — and   Sakhawachiak  paid! 

His  boats'  crews  left  him,  one  after  another. 
Sakhawachiak  was  a  good  enough  master,  but  he 
had  no  food;  Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe  had — 
they  went  where  they  could  be  fed. 

By  the  time  the  sun  came  back,  Sakhawachiak 
was  done.  The  insatiable  whites  had  taken  in 
barter  all  he  possessed,  even  to  his  last  umiak; 
and  now  he  himself  was  their  man,  chief  among 
them,  to  be  sure,  but  still — never  before  had  he 
worked  for  others. 

It  tortured  him;  he  became  silent  and  moody 
— but  Igluruk  was  happy.     She  felt  that,  of  all 


Frozen  Justice  61 

the  Nuwuk  women,  she  was  now  the  one  the 
white  men  liked  best  to  see  in  their  hut;  and, 
what  was  more,  she  much  preferred  cheery,  good- 
looking  Joe  to  her  husband,  who  for  so  many 
years — ever  since  she  was  a  child,  in  fact — had 
watched  over  and  protected  her. 

Now  she  no  longer  looked  with  pride  at 
Sakhawachiak — her  eyes  did  not  follow  him  as 
they  used,  for  he  was  no  better  than  the  other 
natives;  but  Joe — he  was,  and  he  was  a  white 
man  too,  who  could  say  pretty  things  to  her, 
could  play  queer  instruments  and  sing  so  beauti- 
fully; but  better  than  all — the  thing  she  valued 
most — he  had  power  to  do  what  he  would. 

One  day,  some  time  after  the  sun  had  come  out 
of  its  winter  slumber,  Sakhawachiak  sat  at  home 
in  his  iglo,  glaring  before  him  with  dull,  watery 
eyes,  still  fuddled  from  the  last  night's  bac- 
chanal. Suddenly  a  sledge  drove  up  to  the  hut 
and  he  heard  Black  Joe's  voice :  "Sakhawachiak, 
come  out;  I  want  to  have  a  word  with  you." 

Igluruk  jumped  up  and  ran  out;  Sakhawachiak 
followed.      "What  do  you  want?" 

"Well,"  answered  Joe,  "now  that  the  sun  has 
come  you  can  see  to  hunt  reindeer — and  look 
here,  Sakhawachiak,  Igluruk  was  saying  she'd 
like  some  fresh  meat — I  shouldn't  mind  some 
myself;  and  for  twenty  shoulders  of  reindeer  I'll 
give  you  an  umiak  with  gear  and  a  full  crew," 


62  Frozen  Justice 

That  shook  Sakhawachiak  out  of  his  torpor; 
there  was  still  a  hope  of  regaining  his  lost  posi- 
tion. "Well,  but  the  reindeer  are  a  long  way 
off,  right  over  by  the  Kugerakuk,  many  days' 
sledge-journey  from  here.  I  should  have  to 
drive  fast  and  light,  couldn't  take  Igluruk  with 
me.     Who  will  look  after  her  while  I'm  away?" 

"I  will,"  answered  Joe;  "I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  we'll  give  Igluruk  all  the  food  she  needs  while 
you're  away  hunting." 

A  struggle  was  going  on  in  Sakhawachiak — if 
he  went,  he  might  win  back  all  he  had  lost,  he 
might  make  himself  independent  again,  and  if  he 
had  luck  with  the  weather  and  game  was  plenti- 
ful, he  might  be  back  in  three  weeks.  But  Ig- 
luruk?— could  he  let  her  stay  behind?  For  he 
knew  very  well  that  she  was  handsome  and  that 
the  white  men  had  a  fancy  for  her. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  silent,  nor  did  he  notice 
the  furtive  glances  between  Igluruk  and  Black 
Joe — his  thoughts  worked  as  never  before — what 
was  he  to  do? 

"Well,  Sakhawachiak,"  Joe  interrupted  his 
thoughts;  "have  you  made  up  your  mind  yet?" 

But  the  native  sat  still,  thinking,  weighing  the 
chances  for  and  against.  His  craving  for  in- 
dependence worked  for  acceptance — against  it 
his  fears  for  Igluruk. 


Frozen  Justice  63 

"What  do  you  say?"  he  asked  at  last,  turning 
to  her. 

"Go,"  she  answered  without  hesitation;  "go 
at  once;  it  won't  be  long  before  the  whale  comes 
and  then  you  must  be  back.  Go,  Sakhawachiak,  I 
shall  get  on  all  right — it's  not  the  first  time 
you've  left  me — but  it's  the  first  time  I  haven't 
had  reindeer  meat  in  spring.  Do  go,  Sakhawa- 
chiak." 

He  was  still  in  doubt — it  was  hard  to  decide; 
but  Joe  was  tired  of  waiting.  "Sakhawachiak," 
he  said  harshly,  "you  remember  our  agreement 
when  I  bought  your  last  umiak.  You  promised  to 
do  what  I  wanted,  and  now  I  want  you  to  go, 
and  at  once!" 

Sakhawachiak  flew  up — never  before  had  any 
man  dared  to  speak  to  him  like  that;  but  Joe 
laughed.  "You  forget  that  you're  in  my  pay 
and  that  I  can  order  you  about.  If  you  don't 
go,  neither  you  nor  Igluruk  will  get  anything  to 
eat." 

That  cut  to  the  quick — it  was  true,  the  white 
man  could  both  order  him  about  and  refuse 
him  food — this  dependence  was  intolerable. 
But  as  payment  for  three  weeks'  hunting  he 
might  regain  his  independence.  His  decision 
was  made. 

"Yes,  Joe,  I'll  go." 


64  Frozen  Justice 

Next  day  he  drove  out  of  Nuwuk,  the  home 
of  his  fathers,  driven  away,  starved  out  .  .  .  but 
on  the  same  day  Igluruk  moved  down  to  the 
white  men's  hut  as  Black  Joe's  woman.  Her 
mate  was  again  the  first  man  in  Nuwuk,  and  now 
he  was  a  white  man  into  the  bargain. 


IV 

ON  the  bank  of  the  Kugerakuk,  in  a 
valley  facing  south — a  regular  sun- 
trap — lay  a  score  of  iglos,  cunningly 
built  of  blocks  of  ice,  hemispherical,  the  casual 
homes  of  wandering  hunters.  They  lasted  as 
long  as  they  could — not  very  long  in  the  spring- 
time, for  the  broiling  sun  eats  into  the  snow,  while 
the  warmth  inside  the  iglo  brings  water  streaming 
from  walls  and  roof;  the  huts  disappeared  rap- 
idly, and  as  rapidly  new  ones  were  built — the  vil- 
lage on  the  bank  of  the  Kugerakuk  was  always 
shifting,  continually  transformed. 

These  iglos  are  cosy  and  warm  inside,  where 
women  and  children  are  on  the  move  all  day  long; 
they  are  clean  and  tidy,  as  they  do  not  last  long 
enough  for  dirt  to  collect.  Skins  and  furs  spread 
on  benches  of  snow  serve  as  beds;  a  lamp  or  two 
swing  from  the  ceiling,  filled  with  train-oil  which 
sends  out  a  heavy  warmth  into  the  little  room; 
and  here  all  utensils,  tools  and  weapons  are  ar- 
ranged in  their  proper  places,  while  little  offshoots 
from  the  main  iglo  form  splendid  cold-storage 
rooms  for  all  the  reindeer  carcases  that  have 
been  brought  in  from  the  country  round. 

65 


66  Frozen  Justice 


Year  after  year  the  Eskimos  come  back  to  this 
place,  which  is  the  best  centre  for  reindeer  on  the 
north  coast.  People  come  from  Nuwuk,  but  most 
hail  from  the  east,  whence  they  come  with  the 
double  object  of  hunting  reindeer  and  meeting 
western  traders. 

The  whole  autumn  and  winter  are  spent  in 
preparing  for  this  hunting  and  trade  gathering, 
and  when  the  sun  is  high  in  the  sky  they  set 
out  from  their  distant  homes.  Family  after 
family  joins  the  company,  and  every  spring  the 
great  caravan  winds  its  way  along  the  north 
coast  of  Alaska — a  score  of  sledges  or  more. 

When  blizzards  come  on  and  the  snow  whirls 
high,  the  travellers  build  snow  huts  and  wait  for 
better  weather.  They  keep  warm  and  cheerful  in 
the  huts  and  amuse  themselves  by  discussing  all 
that  they  will  see  and  hear  when  they  get  to  the 
Kugerakuk — but  as  soon  as  the  sun  comes  out, 
they  start  again,  laughing,  chattering  and  singing 
— a  noisy  procession. 

Their  yellow  umiaks  are  lashed  fast  to  the 
sledges,  filled  to  the  gunwhale  with  whalebone  and 
skins,  and  if  the  wind  is  fair,  sails  are  hoisted. 
Then  the  journey  becomes  a  holiday  and  they  tear 
along — the  grown-ups  running  gleefully  by  the 
side  of  the  sledge,  while  the  little  ones  make  them- 
selves warm  nests  among  the  furs  in  the  umiaks, 


Frozen  Justice  67 

from  which  their  black  inquisitive  eyes  peer  out 
at  the  rapidly  shifting  landscape. 

But  when  there  is  a  head  wind  the  men  harness 
themselves,  walking  beside  the  sledge  and  pulling 
so  that  the  sweat  pours  off  them;  the  bigger  chil- 
dren help,  the  women  too,  but  in  front  of  each 
team  a  woman  runs,  with  her  smallest  child  on  her 
back  inside  her  warm  anorak.  She  encourages 
the  dogs  with  stirring  shouts  and  shows  the  way, 
while  her  every  limb  thrills  with  joy;  she  gives 
a  yell  and  leaps  forward,  jumps  high  into  the  air 
so  that  the  little  one  bumps  against  her  naked 
back — but  what  does  she  care  for  cold  or  wind  or 
fatigue  or  new-born  babes? — she's  westward 
bound  for  the  Kugerakuk. 

And  when  the  season  is  over  they  turn  eastward 
again.  The  ice  is  gone  and  the  sledge  useless; 
it  is  taken  to  pieces  and  stowed  in  the  umiak, 
which  sails  homeward  deeply  laden  with  the  glor- 
ies of  the  West  and  with  a  whole  army  of  people 
and  dogs  on  board.  The  gut  sail  is  set,  trimmed 
to  catch  the  faintest  breeze,  and  with  women 
laughing  and  singing  at  the  paddles  the  umiak 
shoots  over  the  water,  while  the  sun  streams  down 
and  seals  put  up  their  heads  to  look  at  the  cheerful 
convoy.  They  rest  motionless  in  the  water, 
watching  the  yellow  skin-boat  with  their  great 
round,  bright  eyes ;  they  turn  their  heads  slightly 


68  Frozen  Justice 

to  hear  the  singing  better — but  suddenly  a  spear 
whizzes  through  the  air,  thrown  by  one  of  the 
kayak  men.  The  seal  gives  a  start,  its  head 
swings  round  like  lightning,  and  the  happy  glance 
in  its  eye  gives  place  to  a  look  of  pain.  Then  the 
seal  dives,  with  death  in  its  heart,  while  the 
women  and  children  in  the  umiak  laugh,  sing  and 
clap  their  hands  over  the  animal's  death-struggle 
— it  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  alive  when  death  is 
grappling  with  other  creatures. 

Ah,  that  journey  to  the  Kugerakuk  is  a  holiday, 
and  the  stay  there  is  a  holiday  too.  The 
women  have  not  much  to  do,  but  sit 
outside  the  iglos  gossiping  and  basking  in 
the  sun;  they  talk  of  everything  that 
has  happened  in  the  course  of  the  winter — 
of  the  children  that  have  been  born  and  the  peo- 
ple who  have  died;  they  snigger  and  giggle  over 
stories  of  unexpected  encounters  in  dark  iglos 
when  the  lamp  was  put  out  after  a  feast  and  pas- 
sions were  let  loose ;  they  tell  each  other  how  many 
men  have  changed  wives  during  the  winter,  and 
they  stop  working  to  hear  about  the  young  girl 
who  hasn't  found  a  mate  but  is  looking  for  one 
everywhere. 

And  in  the  evening  when  the  sun  is  setting  the 
men  come  back  from  their  day-long  wandering 
over  the  frozen  tundra,  laden  with  skins  and  meat, 


Frozen  Justice  69 

which  the  expectant  women  take  charge  of  with 
laughter  and  song. 

And  to  this  cheerful  camp  on  the  Kugerakuk 
came  Sakhawachiak,  sent  there  by  Black  Joe, 
driven  there  by  his  own  longing  to  recover  some- 
thing of  his  former  position,  and  in  the  hope  that 
rapid  and  successful  hunting  would  give  him 
enough  meat  to  enable  him  to  claim  an  umiak  in 
exchange — and  with  it  his  independence  and, 
above  all,  his  self-respect. 

Sakhawachiak  was  alone  and  so  could  not  keep 
house,  but  he  found  shelter  in  a  friend's  iglo, 
where  he  lived  all  the  time  he  stayed  on  the 
Kugerakuk. 

He  was  well  known  to  all  the  Eskimos  from 
the  east  country;  they  were  his  friends  of  old 
days — most  of  them,  no  doubt,  were  friends  still ; 
but  the  few  who  came  from  Nuwuk  brought  with 
them  the  report  of  his  degradation,  and  his  fall, 
great  as  it  was,  did  not  lose  in  their  telling. 
Whenever  his  back  was  turned  they  smiled  in  a 
knowing  way  and  told  everybody  who  cared  to 
listen  about  the  white  men  at  Nuwuk  and  about 
Sakhawachiak — once  a  chief  and  the  biggest  man 
in  the  settlement,  now  utterly  destitute,  in  the 
white  men's  pay,  sent  by  them  to  the  Kugerakuk 
to  hunt  reindeer,  while  in  his  absence  they  took 
his  last  remaining  possession — Igluruk. 


70  Frozen  Justice 

The  Eskimos  laughed — simple,  unsuspecting 
fool ! — how  could  he  imagine  he  would  be  a  match 
for  the  whites! — and  the  Nuwuk  Eskimos  went 
swaggering  around:  they  had  given  in  long 
ago,  they  had  seen  which  way  the  wind  blew,  but 
still  they  had  felt  Sakhawachiak' s  firm  opposition 
to  the  whites  as  a  reproach  to  themselves,  who 
simply  went  with  the  stream  and  never  thought  of 
turning  to  resist  it  as  Sakhawachiak  had  done. 

But  now  he  was  being  carried  downstream  as 
fast  as  the  others,  perhaps  faster,  for  his  strength 
was  quite  exhausted  by  his  efforts  to  resist  it  and 
dam  its  overwhelming  force — and  they  were  glad, 
all  those  who  had  fallen  before  he  did,  to  see  that 
silent  reproach  removed,  to  see  him  forced  to 
his  knees  by  the  white  men,  knocked  out,  and 
nevertheless  in  their  pay. 

In  the  evening,  when  they  took  their  ease  in 
cosy  iglos,  Sakhawachiak  was  the  theme  of  end- 
less talks,  and  old  stories  of  his  great  days  were 
drawn  forth  from  the  shades  of  oblivion,  altered, 
distorted — all  of  them  stories  against  him,  for, 
now  that  he  had  lost  his  power,  there  were  plenty 
of  men  ready  to  assert  that  he  had  wronged  and 
cheated  them  in  bargains  over  skins  and  whale- 
bone. 

Poor  Sakhawachiak!  The  white  men  took 
everything  from  him — they  had  taken  himself — 
his  woman  too — and  now  they  took  the  last  thing 


Frozen  Justice  71 

he  had  left,  the  respect  his  countrymen  had  un- 
consciously paid  him  as  the  best  hunter  and  biggest 
trader  in  Nuwuk — the  man  they  could  go  to  for 
help  when  sickness  kept  the  hunter  indoors  and 
hunger  and  want  threatened  his  family. 

They  rejoiced,  all  these  small  natures  who 
had  never  been  able  to  raise  themselves  to  Sak- 
hawachiak's  level,  and  endless  were  the  stories  of 
his  degradation  which  went  round  the  snow  huts 
on  the  Kugerakuk  .  .  .  but  only  when  he  was 
out  hunting;  for  the  memory  of  his  strength  and 
former  power  was  lively  enough  when  he  was  in 
their  midst,  and  kept  them  in  check. 

But  Sakhawachiak  was  not  often  at  home;  he 
was  out  hunting  early  and  late;  scouring  the 
tundra  with  his  dog-team.  If  he  discovered  a 
herd  of  reindeer  he  summoned  all  his  hunter's 
craft  to  lay  low  as  many  as  possible  of  them,  and 
his  hunting  often  took  him  so  far  from  the  Kuger- 
akuk settlement  that  he  would  not  waste  time  in 
returning  when  darkness  came  on.  For,  unlike 
other  Eskimos,  he  had  learnt  to  set  up  a  goal,  pur- 
sue it,  keep  it  in  view  early  and  late  and  never  give 
up. 

He  had  worked  for  great  aims  before,  but  never 
so  great  as  now — it  was  not  the  twenty  reindeer 
he  was  after,  but  his  whole  future,  his  independ- 
ence and  self-respect  depended  on  the  issue. 

If  it  chanced  that  when  darkness  fell  he  was 


72  Frozen  Justice 

far  from  the  settlement  and  on  the  track  of 
reindeer,  he  dug  himself  into  the  snow  or  threw 
up  a  little  breastwork  around  him — and  there  he 
slept,  surrounded  by  his  dogs,  so  as  to  be  ready- 
as  soon  as  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  shot  up  over 
the  hills  in  the  north-east  and  gave  life  to  the 
dead  white  flats  of  the  tundra,  which,  blushing 
and  glittering  with  countless  ice-crystals,  bade 
the  sun — its  worst  enemy — welcome. 

Then  Sakhawachiak  awoke,  shook  the  snow 
off  his  clothes,  stretched  himself  and  drew  in  the 
fresh  spring  air — ate  a  little  frozen  meat,  har- 
nessed his  dogs  to  the  sledge  and  drove  off, 
choosing  the  highest  ridges,  whence  his  keen  eyes 
reconnoitred  the  plain  for  miles  around.  If  he 
saw  a  dark  spot  which  might  mean  reindeer,  he 
kept  still,  his  eyes  fastened  to  the  spot,  sitting  im- 
movable— his  look  took  on  the  gleam  of  a  beast 
of  prey's  as  it  watched  for  the  slightest  movement 
of  the  dark  point:  was  it  a  reindeer  or  a  rock? 

If  it  did  not  move  he  drove  on;  but  if  the 
faintest  movement  was  visible  he  approached, 
to  leeward  of  the  animal,  as  near  as  possible — 
and  there  the  hunt  began.  Crawling  on  his 
stomach  or  running  bent  double  behind  every  little 
elevation  of  the  ground,  he  drew  near  to  the  un- 
suspecting beast — and  only  when  he  was  close  to 
it  and  had  to  cross  a  flat  open  space  with  no 
possibility  of  cover,  did  he  creep  forward  with 


Frozen  Justice  73 

the  antlers  of  a  dead  deer  raised  high  above  his 
head. 

The  reindeer  sees  him,  but  suspects  nothing 
wrong,  for  Sakhawachiak  nods  with  the  horns  and 
makes  a  munching  sound  deceptively  like  a  rein- 
deer— there  can't  be  any  danger  and  the  animal 
goes  on  quietly  grazing,  until  suddenly  there  is 
a  whizz  through  the  air;  she  starts  up,  looks 
round  at  the  supposed  male,  now  on  two  legs, 
leaps  away  to  avoid  the  unknown  danger,  but  is 
overtaken  by  the  spear,  which,  hurled  by  a  sure 
hand,  strikes  behind  the  shoulder — to  the  heart. 

This  was  everyday  work  for  Sakhawachiak,  but 
each  time  he  brought  down  a  deer  it  made  him 
happier;  and  out  there  on  the  tundra,  where  he 
could  look  about  him  for  miles  without  seeing  a 
soul  and  could  go  where  he  would  without  meet- 
ing white  men  or  the  ill-concealed  smiles  of  the 
natives,  he  found  himself  again.  The  whisky 
was  out  of  him,  driven  off  by  the  keen,  fresh 
air,  he  held  himself  erect  and  trod  the  ground 
as  he  used  to  do,  with  a  sure,  self-reliant  step — and 
suddenly  it  came  upon  him  that  he  hated  the  white 
men,  hated  those  blackguards  that  he  had  helped 
so  often,  whose  friend  he  had  counted  himself, 
but  who  were  only  waiting  till  he  exposed  him- 
self— like  the  reindeer  just  now — to  give  him  the 
death-blow. 

And  it  was  not  even  in  honourable  fight  that 


74  Frozen  Justice 

the  white  men  had  won;  they  won,  not  because 
they  were  more  capable  than  he,  but  simply  be- 
cause they  were  more  callous.  One  white  man 
would  always  help  another,  there  was  more  com- 
radeship among  them  than  in  his  own  race;  and 
then  the  whites  had  taught  the  natives  to  use 
things  which  they  could  no  longer  do  without — 
that  was  how  they  won.  As  a  hunter,  as  a  trader, 
nay,  even  as  a  man,  he  felt  himself  superior  to 
the  white  man. 

It  made  him  smart  to  think  of  Black  Joe  and 
Jim  Hacklet,  of  his  dependence  on  them,  of  the 
way  they  had  scorned  him;  and  all  his  hatred  of 
white  men  concentrated  itself  on  these  two.  Sak- 
hawachiak's  eyes  flashed  with  hate  and  the  desire 
for  revenge,  he  clenched  his  spear  more  tightly  till 
it  quivered  in  his  hand;  there  would  have  been 
trouble  if  he  had  met  them  then. 

The  hardships  of  the  country  and  his  training 
as  a  hunter  had  taught  Sakhawachiak  to  wait — 
his  time  would  surely  come,  but  first  he  would  get 
those  twenty  shoulders  of  reindeer;  that  was  a 
promise,  that  was  business,  and  when  he  had  got 
the  umiak  in  return,  he  would  know  how  to  get 
along  by  himself  and  win  back  his  power — he 
would  keep  out  of  the  snares  the  white  men  set 
for  him. 

And  then,  but  not  till  then,  vengeance  might 
come — sooner  or  later  he  would  find  an  oppor- 


Frozen  Justice  75 

tunity  of  hitting  the  white  men  so  hard  that  they 
would  never  forget  it. 

On  across  the  tundra  dashed  Sakhawachiak' s 
team,  the  dogs  feeling  that  they  had  a  master 
once  more;  reindeer  after  reindeer  fell  to  his 
hand,  soon  he  would  have  what  he  had  come  for 
— and  then  back  to  Nuwuk,  to  Igluruk — to  the 
white  men. 

There  was  feasting,  and  orgy  of  gluttony,  on 
the  banks  of  the  Kugerakuk.  Game  had  been 
killed  far  in  excess  of  expectations;  now  the  men 
could  take  it  easy  for  a  while,  and  the  day  before 
Sakhawachiak  was  to  start  for  Nuwuk  the  whole 
population  of  the  camp  collected  outside  the  huts, 
gorged  with  food — now  was  the  time  for  the 
dance,  the  wild  hula-hula. 

Sakhawachiak  was  happy;  his  decision  was 
made:  the  two  white  men  should  be  driven  out 
of  the  country  or  killed  as  soon  as  he  got  back 
to  Nuwuk;  early  next  morning  he  would  be  on  the 
trail  and  this  was  the  last  day  of  his  degradation. 
His  heathen  forefathers  awoke  in  him — he  seized 
a  spear  and  danced,  danced  as  they  did  in  the  old 
days,  danced  as  they  used  to  do  when  passions 
broke  loose  and  there  was  going  to  be  bloodshed. 
He  thought  of  his  tormentors,  thought  of  his 
revenge,  his  eyes  shot  lightnings  and  his  cheeks 
flushed  red  beneath  their  natural  brown;  with 
stiff  legs  and  hair  hanging  loose  he  went  back- 


76  Frozen  Justice 

wards  and  forwards,  hurling  threats  against  the 
whites,  scorning  them  and  all  their  works.  He 
thrust  about  him  with  his  spear — it  was  not  he, 
Sakhawachiak,  that  was  dancing,  it  was  not  he 
that  controlled  his  movements — it  was  the  spirit 
of  all  his  heathen  forefathers  that  forced  his 
tongue  to  utter  the  scornful  words  and  his  arm 
to  wave  in  threating  gestures. 

Around  him  stood  his  countrymen.  They  had 
forgotten  their  laughter,  forgotten  Sakhawac- 
hiak's  fall;  and  in  the  breast  of  every 
man  and  woman  his  dance  and  his  words 
roused  dormant  savagery — they  swayed  in 
time,  their  steps  followed  his;  this  was 
a    dance    like    those    of    their    younger    days. 

All  the  onlookers  followed  the  scene  with 
breathless  excitement;  they  had  a  feeling  that 
something  was  going  to  happen  .  .  .  but  sud- 
denly those  on  the  outside  of  the  crowd  were 
plucked  out  of  the  hypnosis  of  the  dance  and 
turned  to  see  who  was  coming,  for  all  the  dogs 
that  were  loose  had  rushed  off  towards  the  west 
with  a  terrific  barking.  They  shaded  their  eyes 
with  their  hand  and  peered  across  the  flat  tundra 
— there  was  a  sledge  tearing  along,  drawn  by 
eight  active  dogs,  with  a  man  standing  on  it  swing- 
ing his  long  whip. 

Who  could  it  be  ?  Several  more  turned  to  look 
at  the  rapidly  approaching  sledge,  which  was  now 


Frozen  Justice  11 

swinging  round  the  farthest  iglo  of  settlement — 
oho,  it's  Uyarak,  the  angekok  of  Nuwuk,  coming 
to  town ! 

He  jumped  off  the  sledge,  whose  whole  team 
started  a  furious  battle  with  the  dogs  of  the  place, 
and  joined  the  nearest  Eskimos  to  watch  Sak- 
hawachiak's  dance. 

"Aha,  it's  he,  is  it?"  said  Uyarak  aloud;  "my 
word,  how  he  dances !  But  in  Nuwuk  his  woman 
is  dancing  another  kind  of  dance — she  lives  in 
Black  Joe's  hut  now." 

Uyarak's  words  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth; 
a  dead  silence  fell  on  the  crowd,  agape  with  ex- 
citement— for  everybody  knew  Sakhawachiak  and 
his  love  for  the  unworthy  Igluruk. 

But  with  his  stiff  legs  and  his  fixed,  blazing 
eyes,  with  spear  in  hand  and  the  words  of  his 
heathen  ancestors  on  his  tongue,  Sakhawachiak 
still  strode  backwards  and  forwards,  oblivious  of 
everything  but  his  dance.  He  did  not  notice  the 
silence  around  him,  only  shouted  his  scoffs  and 
threats  louder  and  louder — but  all  at  once  he 
stopped,  quite  rigid  with  upraised  spear;  the 
words  died  away  on  his  lips — there  he  had  caught 
it,  and  he  slowly  turned  to  listen  to  the  the  mut- 
tering men  and  women;  the  name — Igluruk — 
scattered  his  heathen  ancestors  and  recalled  him 
to  the  present — to  his  own  sorrow  and  shame. 

What  is  that  they're  saying? — he  still  stood 


78  Frozen  Justice 

listening,  and  then  heard  the  creak  of  footsteps 
behind  him  and  Uyarak's  voice:  "Yes,  Sakhawa- 
chiak,  Igluruk  is  living  with  Black  Joe  now — that's 
what  happens  to  those  who  forsake  the  gods  of 
their  fathers  1" 

At  that  instant  all  his  heathen  blood  surged 
up  in  him;  his  ears  sang,  he  reeled,  then  pulled 
himself  up  and  turned  round,  slowly,  his  brain 
working  with  frenzied  rapidity.  What  was  that? 
What  had  happened — what  was  it  he  was  saying? 
.  .  .  and  at  the  same  moment  he  heard  Uya- 
rak's voice  close  beside  him  saying:  "Sakha- 
wachiak,  the  white  men  have  taken  your  woman." 

He  heard  it  plainly  and  his  mind  cleared,  he 
became  uncannily  calm;  but  he  turned  sharply 
on  Uyarak,  who  fell  back  a  step,  repelled  by  the 
burning,  bloodshot  eyes — and  all  the  natives 
huddled  together,  fearful  of  what  was  to  happen. 
"Uyarak,  you  lie!  She  couldn't  do  it,  the  white 
men  wouldn't  do  it  either — "  exclaimed  Sakhawa- 
chiak;  but  in  his  heart  he  knew  all  the  time  that 
it  was  true;  and  Uyarak  laughed:  "Oh  yes,  Sak- 
hawachiak,  it's  true.  And  what  of  it  ? — she's  only 
a  woman  and  that's  the  way  with  all  of  them." 

Then  something  snapped  in  the  tormented  man; 
he  bent  back  and  hurled  his  spear  forward  with 
all  his  force.  It  flashed  in  the  air  like  a  thunder- 
bolt from  the  gods  and  the  point  struck  right  in 
the  throat  of  Uyarak;  with  the  blood  gurgling 


Frozen  Justice         79 

from  his  mouth  the  angekok  tottered  and  fell, 
hurled  backwards  by  the  spear  and  Sakhawa- 
chiak's  strength — dead. 

Sakhawachiak  .stepped  to  his  fallen  enemy, 
jerked  the  spear  out  of  his  throat  and  swung  the 
bloody  weapon  above  his  head;  he  turned  about 
to  look  for  other  enemies,  to  catch  a  mocking 
smile  on  some  man's  mouth — but  all  were  serious; 
they  drew  back  before  his  furious  glance,  none 
dared  join  issue  with  him.  Then  after  spurning 
with  his  foot  the  dead  angekok,  who  lay  on  the 
white  snow  in  a  pool  of  blood,  the  warmth  of 
which  ate  away  the  snow  beneath  him,  Sakhawa- 
chiak went  off  to  his  hut,  tore  and  wrenched  at 
the  traces,  harnessed  his  dogs,  leapt  on  the  sledge 
and  dashed  off,  waving  his  spear  in  the  air,  bound 
for  Nuwuk  along  the  trail  that  Uyarak  had  just 
come  by. 

Pitching  and  swaying  the  sledge  flew  over  the 
tundra ;  the  smooth  ivory  runners  shrieked  against 
the  frozen  snow,  and  the  sledge  lurched  and  ran 
on  one  runner  every  time  it  collided  with  a  stone 
or  some  small  unevenness.  But  Sakhawachiak  sat 
tight;  in  his  hand  he  held  the  whip,  whose  frozen 
lash  rained  down  upon  the  dogs,  and  these,  fired 
by  his  shouts  and  the  smarting  lash,  ran  as  they 
had  never  run  before,  while  their  master  yelled 
and  screamed — faster,  faster,  run,  run,  we're 
going  to  Nuwuk,  to  Igluruk,  to  Black  Joe ! 


80  Frozen  Justice 

The  sun  shone  upon  the  tundra,  spring  clouds 
drifted  lazily  over  the  blue  of  the  sky,  all  nature 
breathed  peace  and  calm,  all  was  restful,  all  save 
this  human  atom,  who  flew  on  over  the  endless 
flats,  seething  with  hate,  leaving  murder  behind 
him  and  bearing  murder  in  his  heart.  For 
Black  Joe  was  to  die,  that  was  Sakhawachiak's 
fixed  determintion — faster,  dogs,  faster! — and 
the  whip  swished  down  on  the  heated  animals, 
who  moaned  and  snarled  at  the  lash  but  ran  faster, 
as  fast  as  they  could  go,  along  the  trail  made  by 
Uyarak  and  his  team. 

The  day  was  passing,  but  still  Sakhawachiak 
drove  his  reluctant  dogs  forward.  Their  feet 
were  cut  and  bleeding  from  the  sharp  ice,  the 
pads  torn  to  pieces,  leaving  a  track  of  blood,  and 
the  dogs  were  blinded  by  the  stinging  whip,  to 
escape  which  they  ran  on,  but  which  was  always 
over  them.  On  the  sledge  Sakhawachiak  was 
kneeling,  still  consumed  by  hate,  balancing  as  the 
sledge  lurched  over  an  uneven  bit  of  ground;  and 
swung  the  whip  faster  than  ever  now  that  the 
dogs  were  tired.  And  if  a  dog  fell,  he  seized 
the  trace  and  dragged  the  yelling  animal  up  on 
to  the  sledge — drew  his  knife  and  plunged  it  to 
the  hilt  into  the  dog's  chest — then  away  with  the 
body,  over  the  side,  back  with  the  knife  into  the 
sheath  and  up  with  the  whip — and  down  came 


Frozen  Justice  81 

slash  upon  slash  over  the  backs  of  the  wretched 
animals. 

They  got  too  tired  to  pull  him  any  longer,  so  he 
jumped  off  and  ran  beside  the  sledge  with  his  whip 
in  his  hand,  swinging  it  over  his  head  and  down  on 
to  the  dogs,  who  ran  on,  stumbling,  dazed,  worn- 
out — ran  on  because  they  were  born  to  run,  be- 
cause they  were  driven  forward  by  a  man  hard  as 
iron,  who  would  rather  drive  the  team  till  they 
all  dropped  than  stop. 

Towards  evening  the  wild  drive  slackened — the 
dogs  could  no  more.  Five  he  had  thrown  out, 
broken,  killed;  he  had  only  four  left;  but  he  had 
to  go  on,  he  would  go  on  without  thought  of  rest 
— even  when  the  dogs  threw  themselvs  down  and 
would  not  be  roused  by  the  blows  or  kicks — for 
still  the  madness  raged  in  his  blood  and  drove  him 
on. 

The  dogs  gave  up ;  they  could  do  no  more  and 
he  let  them  lie,  but  bent  over  his  old  leader  and 
patted  his  bloody  coat — in  silent  thanks  for  work 
well  done.  And  the  dog  understood  it,  raised  his 
head  and  licked  his  hand,  looking  at  him  with 
big  questioning  eyes — never  before  had  his  mas- 
ter driven  him  like  this.  He  sat  down  in  front 
of  the  dog,  took  its  head  in  his  hands  and  looked 
into  the  beautiful  brown  eyes.  .  .  .  "Puyark,  Ig- 
luruk's  gone,  taken  by  Black  Joe".  .  .  and  the 


82  Frozen  Justice 

dog  licked  his  hand  as  though  in  sympathy  with 
his  sorrow;  for  two  brief  moments  the  two  old 
sledge-mates  took  leave  of  each  other.  But 
Sakhawachiak  had  no  time  to  wait — his  knife 
flashed  and  he  drove  it  deep  into  Puyark's  throat 
— then  he  rose  again  and  started  to  walk  west- 
ward with  aching  limbs,  while  the  darkness  fell 
around  him  and  blotted  out  the  rough  places 
on  his  path. 

He  staggered  onward  through  the  dark,  stum- 
bled on  ice,  fell,  rested  an  instant,  then  sprang 
up  and  tottered  on.  His  hate  burned  as  strong 
as  ever,  his  one  thought  was  to  get  on  to  the 
westward — to  Nuwuk,  Igluruk,  and  revenge. 

He  kept  on,  in  spite  of  darkness  and  aching 
limbs,  all  through  the  night;  but  when  the  sun 
rose,  its  beams  fell  on  a  wayworn  man  who,  suc- 
cumbing to  fatigue  and  mental  agitation,  had  fal- 
len over  a  piece  of  ice  and  slept,  head  on  arm, 
just  where  he  lay,  with  his  legs  resting  on  the 
lump  of  ice. 

At  the  same  instant  the  tired  wanderer  awoke. 
He  rubbed  his  eyes,  unable  at  first  to  understand 
what  had  happened,  and  had  to  collect  his  thoughts 
before  the  terrible  truth  broke  in  upon  the  numb- 
ness of  exhaustion.  Then  everything  became 
clear,  and  with  a  bound  he  would  have  been  away 
again,  but  he  stumbled  and  fell — the  fatigues  of 
the  previous  day  and  night  had  been  too  much 


Frozen  Justice  83 

for  him.  He  would  go  on,  but  was  neverthe- 
less forced  to  curb  his  eagerness;  carefully  and 
slowly  he  walked,  leaning  on  his  spear. 

Gradually  he  worked  the  stiffness  out  of  his 
limbs  and  could  run  again,  but  the  going  was 
heavy,  for  he  had  lost  the  trail  in  the  course  of 
the  night;  that  made  matters  worse,  as  he  now 
had  to  make  a  new  track  for  himself  through 
the  pathless  desert's  loose  covering  of  snow,  in 
which  he  sank  to  the  knees. 

Long  after  the  sun  had  reached  its  highest  and 
begun  to  descend,  he  came  to  a  hut.  The  woman, 
Cropcana,  was  alone  at  home  and  gave  him  meat 
— he  swallowed  it  and  would  have  been  off  again, 
but  tiredness  and  the  heavy  heat  of  the  house 
lulled  him  to  sleep. 

He  did  not  hear  the  man,  Topsia,  come  home, 
nor  the  conversation  between  the  two.  "It's 
Sakhawachaik,"  whispered  Cropcana.  "He 
came  staggering  into  the  iglo  and  asked  for  food 
— yes,  and  dogs  and  a  sledge.  He  talked  about 
Igluruk  and  Black  Joe,  but  then  he  fell  asleep — 
and  he's  sleeping  still.  You  know  Black  Joe  has 
taken  Igluruk,  and  Uyarak  drove  eastward  some 
days  ago ;  he  must  have  told  Sakhawachiak  what 
has  happened,  and  now  .  .  ."  Cropcana  made  a 
very  eloquent  movement  of  the  head  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Nuwuk. 

Topsia  understood.     "Yes,  and  now  he's  bound 


84  Frozen  Justice 

that  way.  But  if  we  get  to  Nuwuk  before  him 
and  warn  Black  Joe,  the  news  will  be  worth  some 
flour  and  sugar — let's  go!" 

His  wife  nodded  assent;  the  sledge  was  got 
ready  cautiously,  the  dogs  harnessed,  and 
while  Sakhawachiak  slept  on,  Topsia  and  Crop- 
cana  were  urging  on  their  dogs  so  as  to  reach 
Nuwuk  as  quickly  as  possible.  No  ideal  con- 
sideration prompted  them — oh  dear  no,  nothing  so 
fine  as  that — but  for  a  sack  of  flour  and  a  few 
handfuls  of  sugar  they  were  quite  willing  to  betray 
a  countryman  and  help  the  whites,  who  had  done 
so  much  harm  at  Nuwuk. 

Deeply  as  Sakhawachiak  already  felt  his  aban- 
donment by  his  own  people,  yet,  when  he  awoke 
and  found  the  hut  empty  and  in  darkness,  his  bit- 
terness rose  anew — ungrateful  wretches  that  they 
were,  had  they  entirely  fogotten  how  he  had 
helped  them,  as  long  as  he  had  anything  himself? 

But  it  was  no  time  for  barren  reflections  on 
the  ingratitude  of  humanity;  they  only  spurred 
him  on  the  more.  He  took  his  spear  and  such 
food  as  he  could  hastily  snatch  up  in  the  iglo,  and 
followed  the  trail  made  a  couple  of  hours  before 
by  Cropcana  and  Topsia,  who  with  fresh  dogs 
had  and  kept  a  big  start  on  Sakhawachiak. 

Iglos  are  few  and  far  between  on  the  bleak 
coast  of  Alaska,  but  iglos  there  are,  and  when  at 
length  Sakhawachiak  reached  the  next,  whose  in- 


Frozen  Justice  85 

mates  had  heard  from  Cropcana  that  he  was 
coming,  he  did  not  ask  for  dogs  and  sledge — he 
knew  they  would  be  refused.  He  just  took  the 
dogs  and  harnessed  them  to  a  sledge,  but  he  kept 
his  knife  between  his  teeth  all  the  time,  and  his 
spear  was  handy. 

Then  he  dashed  off  in  the  tracks  of  Cropcana 
and  Topsia,  but  they  were  making  better  pace 
than  he — they  had  their  own  dogs,  while  his  were 
strange.  That  made  a  big  difference,  and  when 
Topsia  rounded  the  headland  at  Nuwuk  and  drove 
up  to  Black  Joe's  house,  Sakhawachiak  was  strug- 
gling with  his  dogs  in  deep,  soft  snow,  a  day's 
journey  from  Nuwuk. 


SINCE  Sakhawachiak's  fall  the  white  men 
had  exercised  unrestricted  sway  over  Nu- 
wuk  and  its  inhabitants,  as  there  were  no 
other  Eskimos  with  sufficient  authority  to  oppose 
their  two  exploiters,  Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe, 
who  went  about  lording  it  over  them. 

They  had  been  lucky.  Quite  early  in  the  sea- 
son, long  before  the  whaling  was  over,  they  had 
landed  big  stores  of  whalebone;  but  this  result 
was  not  due  to  the  white  men's  skill  or  the  Eski- 
mos' industry — it  was  all  sheer  luck  and  nothing 
else;  for  whales  were  so  plentiful  that  year  that 
it  was  impossible  not  to  take  them,  however  lazy 
Eskimos  might  be.  And  lazy  they  were,  having 
learnt  the  art  from  the  white  seamen — they 
only  worked  when  Jim  Hacklet  or  Black  Joe  was 
by,  the  rest  of  the  time  they  idled.  The  demoral- 
ization introduced  by  the  whites  was  spreading 
fast. 

Inside  their  hut  the  two  worthies  sat  enjoying 
themselves.  They  looked  at  the  big  bundles  of 
whalebone  and  the  huge  quantities  of  furs  they 
had  collected  in  the  course  of  a  couple  of  years  and 
thought  it  all  very  good;  but  they  did  not  notice 

86 


Frozen  Justice  87 

the  change  in  the  inhabitants.  They  rejoiced 
over  the  great  chance  that  had  come  to  them  and 
that  they  had  exploited  to  the  full  without  trou- 
bling about  its  cost  to  others — in  respect  for  the 
white  man,  amongst  other  things. 

Igluruk  sat  in  the  hut  and  quite  fitted  in  there. 
She  liked  a  life  of  idleness  without  a  thought 
for  the  morrow;  she  lived  more  than  ever  in  the 
present,  and  was  happy  when  Black  Joe  was  in  a 
cheerful  mood  and  smiled  at  her.  Then  she 
would  nestle  up  to  him,  caressing  and  supple  as 
a  cat;  but  when  the  day's  work  was  over  and  the 
white  men  began  drinking,  she  grew  timid  and 
scared.  Then  the  smile  vanished  from  Black 
Joe's  face  and  Jim  Hacklet  looked  more  ill- 
favoured  than  ever;  they  quarrelled  and  came  to 
blows  over  the  least  difference  of  opinion  and 
treated  her  as  she  had  never  been  treated  in  Sak- 
hawachiak's  iglo — there  she  had  felt  herself  the 
equal  of  her  mate ;  here  she  was  only  a  toy  which 
could  be  used,  thrown  away,  or  even  destroyed, 
according  to  the  owner's  pleasure. 

All  the  same  she  was  well  pleased  with  her 
change  of  men,  for  she  was  still  conscious  that 
she  was  the  first  of  her  sex  in  Nuwuk  and  the  lead- 
ing man's  woman.  Only  rarely  did  she  think  of 
Sakhawachiak,  still  more  rarely  of  the  grief  he 
would  feel  on  seeing  her  with  Joe;  but  at  times 
a  feeling  of  anxiety  and  fear  would  overwhelm 


88  Frozen  Justice 

her  at  the  thought  of  his  return.  .  .  .  What 
would  happen?  Would  he  accept  the  situation,  or 
.  .  .  And  she  went  to  Black  Joe  with  her 
trouble.  He  comforted  her  and  laughed. 
"Never  you  mind  about  him;  he's  done,  finished, 
no  good,  only  does  what  I  tell  him."  But  in 
spite  of  his  big  words  Black  Joe  could  not  quite 
get  rid  of  his  uneasiness — one  never  knows  what 
these  natives  may  take  it  into  their  heads  to  do — 
and  he  too  often  worried  about  the  day  when 
Sakhawachiak  would  return. 

But  when  the  whisky  had  befogged  his  under- 
standing and  dulled  his  fears,  he  would  talk  to 
Jim  Hacklet  about  Sakhawachiak  and  all  he  was 
going  to  do  to  plague  and  torment  the  man.  In 
that  state  he  was  valiant  and  bold — of  course 
Sakhawachiak  wasn't  going  to  get  that  umiak, 
whether  he  brought  the  twenty  reindeer  or  not — 
you  didn't  have  to  keep  a  promise  to  the  likes  of 
him;  he'd  break  him,  that's  what  he'd  do,  force 
him  to  live  in  the  hut  with  them  and  see  Igluruk 
another  man's  woman. 

He  laughed  at  the  thought — but  Jim  Hacklet 
did  not  laugh.  He  was  a  better  judge  of  men 
than  Black  Joe  and  was  pretty  sure  that  Sakha- 
wachiak could  be  goaded  until  he  cast  off  the 
yoke;  but  he  comforted  Joe.  uOh  well,  p'raps 
he's  not  so  very  dangerous.  He's  only  a  native 
after  all,  and  you  ought  to  be  able  to  manage  him 


Frozen  Justice  89 

all  right.  All  the  same,  now  we're  talking  about 
it,  I  tell  you  I'm  darned  glad  I  was  too  ugly  for 
the  gal  to  take  a  fancy  to  vie.  You  can't  quite 
tell  how  that  blamed  nigger  may  shape." 

Black  Joe  laughed  louder.  "I'll  flog  him  with 
my  dogwhip  till  he  crawls  in  the  snow  at  my 
feet,"  he  boasted.  'Til  make  him — yes,  I'll 
make  him  coxswain  of  my  umiak — all  among  the 
women  rowers.  My  word,  won't  it  be  sport  to 
make  an  old  woman  of  him,  his  high-and-mighti- 
ness  that  wouldn't  speak  to  anything  less  than  a 
skipper!" 

Jim  had  his  own  thoughts  but  kept  them  to 
himself;  for  he  had  no  objection  to  getting  rid 
of  Black  Joe — then  all  the  riches  would  be  his; 
and  in  a  quiet  way  he  did  what  he  could  to  en- 
courage the  grandiloquent  Joe  in  the  idea  of  de- 
grading Sakhawachiak  as  much  as  possible — the 
bow  might  be  bent  until  it  broke,  and  he  was 
quite  ready  to  see  it  done. 

While  the  white  men  were  talking,  Igluruk 
sat  and  listened.  She  understood  that  it  was 
about  Sakhawachiak  and  was  glad  when  Black 
Joe  remembered  her  existence  and  translated 
some  of  their  talk.  To  her  he  was  even  more 
boastful  than  to  Jim,  and  Igluruk  clapped  her 
hands  with  joy  at  Joe's  threats  against  her 
former  husband.  If  he  could  humble  Sakha- 
wachiak as  he  promised  to  do,  there  was  not  the 


90  Frozen  Justice 

slightest  doubt  that  she  had  really  got  the  strong- 
est man  in  Nuwuk  for  her  mate — she  had  every 
reason  to  be  happy  and  need  fear  nothing. 

One  day  all  three  were  sitting  in  the  hut,  the 
two  men  at  the  table,  drinking — she  on  the  floor, 
as  is  right  and  proper  when  a  white  man  takes 
a  native  as  his  mate.  They  were  discussing  the 
approaching  summer,  the  voyage  to  San  Fran- 
cisco and  all  the  fine  things  that  money  would 
bring  them,  when  they  heard  a  sledge  drive  up 
and  stop  outside  the  door. 

The  men  looked  at  each  other  and  Black  Joe 
turned  pale;  Sakhawachiak  was  just  about  due 
back — could  this  be  he,  coming  to  call  him  to 
account  for  what  he  had  done  to  Igluruki? 

A  cold  shudder  ran  down  his  back  and  he 
looked  round  for  some  weapon,  for  defence  or 
murder,  but  quickly  recovered  his  nerve;  of  course 
it  was  impossible  for  Sakhawachiak  to  be  back 
so  soon  .  .  .  and  when  he  heard  a  strange  voice 
he  was  himself  again — curse  his  fears !  he  wished 
the  meeting  was  over,  but  if  the  man  tried  to  make 
trouble,  he'd  soon  .  .  .    ! 

Black  Joe's  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the 
door  opening,  and  in  came  Topsia  and  Cropcana; 
they  shut  it  behind  them  and  sat  down  quietly, 
without  saying  a  word. 

"Good  day,"  said  Black  Joe  with  a  laugh; 
"you  have  a  queer  way  of  coming  into  a  stranger's 


Frozen  Justice  91 

house — it's  not  how  we  white  men  do  it.  We 
knock  at  the  door,  wait  till  somebody  says  'come 
in,'  and  then  say  what  we've  got  to  say.  But 
you  just  sit  and  stare.  See  here,  you  blasted 
natives,  get  outside  and  come  in  properly." 

Igluruk  laughed:  this  was  Black  Joe's  idea  of 
humour;  and  she  laughed  still  more  when  Topsia 
and  Cropcana  slunk  out  and  shut  the  door  be- 
hind them.  It  was  a  grand  joke,  and  she  slapped 
her  thighs  with  glee  when  she  heard  their  timid 
knock  and  Black  Joe's  stern  voice  say  "Come 
in!"  Oh,  that  Joe,  did  anybody  ever  see  such 
a  man  for  jokes? 

Topsia  sat  down  and  Cropcana  stood  by  the 
door.  Black  Joe  sat  at  the  table  making  faces 
at  both  of  them,  he  was  feeling  so  happy  now; 
what  a  hell  of  a  scare  he'd  had  when  he  heard 
the  sledge  coming! —  "Well,  you  people,  what 
do  you  want?     Got  anything  to  sell?" 

There  was  a  pause  before  they  answered,  and 
Jim  put  a  bottle  and  glasses  on  the  table — al- 
ways a  great  help  in  dealing  with  the  natives. 
"No,  we  don't  want  to  sell,  we've  come  to  get 
a  little  flour  and  sugar.  Sakhawachiak, 
he's  .  .  ." 

"What  do  you  say?"  shouted  Black  Joe,  start- 
ing up — "what  about  Sakhawachiak?  What  do 
you  want?  have  you  met  him?  is  he  dead? — can't 
you  speak,  curse  you!" 


92  Frozen  Justice 

"We  wanted  some  flour — "  began  Cropcana. 
" — Yes,  and  some  sugar  too — "  added  Topsia, 
" — Sakhawachiak  .  .  .  well,  we've  seen  him, 
he's  coming.  .  .  ." 

"What?  where?  when?"  shouted  Joe,  turning 
pale,  while  Jim  went  over  to  the  door  and  shut 
it  securely.  "When's  he  coming?  where  did  you 
see  him? —  By  God,  Jim,  he  may  be  here  any 
minute  if  these  fools  have  seen  him.  .  .  .  Speak, 
man,  speak!"  he  exclaimed,  seizing  Topsia  by  the 
shoulder  and  shaking  him;  "speak,  man,  are  you 
dumb?" 

"We  want  a  sack  of  flour,"  answered  Topsia, 
with  more  assurance  now  that  he  saw  the  im- 
pression Sakhawachiak's  name  made  on  the  white 
men.  "No,  we  want  two — and  sugar — "  added 
Cropcana — "lots  of  it.  Before  we  have  it  on 
our  sledge  we  won't  say  anything." 

"Let  'em  have  it  then,"  cried  Joe  to  Jim;  "give 
'em  what  they  want  and  let's  hear  what  they've 
got  to  say.  These  natives  are  enough  to  drive 
you  mad — so  slow,  so  darned  slow —  Lord,  what 
people!"  But  he  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  hear 
what  Topsia  had  to  say  that  he  helped  Jim  to 
carry  the  sacks  out  to  the  sledge. 

"There  now,"  he  said,  calmer  now  that  his  first 
fright  had  subsided;  "out  with  your  story;  God 
knows  we've  paid  enough  for  it — what  is  it  you've 
got  to  tell?" 


Frozen  Justice  93 

"Sakhawachiak  came  to  our  iglo,"  Cropcana 
began,  "long  past  midday,  two  days  ago.  His 
eyes  were  wild,  the  whites  of  them  were  red,  his 
clothes  were  torn,  he  was  so  tired  that  he  could 
scarcely  walk,  and  hungry.  Where  do  you  come 
from?'  I  asked.  He  didn't  answer,  but  sat  staring 
in  front  of  him.  I  got  quite  scared  of  him  and  said 
no  more  till  he  had  eaten — then  I  asked  again 
where  he  came  from  and  he  answered,  'from  the 
Kugerakuk.'  But  suddenly  he  jumped  up :  'Crop- 
cana, have  you  heard  anything  about  Igluruk  and 
Black  Joe?'  and  his  eyes  almost  started  out  of 
his  head,  he  glared  at  me  so. 

"I  couldn't  tell  how  much  he  had  heard,  and 
so  I  said  no.  Then  he  was  silent  .  .  .  but  a 
little  while  after  he  began  again.  .  .  .  'Uyarak 
said  that  Igluruk  was  living  in  Black  Joe's  hut 
now — is  that  true?'  I  said  I  didn't  know;  I 
didn't  dare  say  anything  else,  he  looked  so 
terrible.  And  then  he  was  silent  a  little  and  only 
sat  and  glared;  but  at  last  he  spoke  again:  'Let 
me  have  dogs,  Cropcana,  and  a  sledge;  mine  are 
lying  on  the  trail.' 

"  'Where  did  you  meet  Uyarak?'  I  asked  again. 
'Uyarak?'  he  said,  looking  up  at  me.  'Oh  well, 
on  the  Kugerakuk — he  died.'  .   .   ." 

But  here  Cropcana  was  interrupted  by  Black 
Joe,  who  sprang  up  with  an  oath,  his  face  pale 
as  death,     "Dead,   did  you   say? — is  he   dead, 


94  Frozen  Justice 

where  did  he  die,  how  did  he  die?  did  Sakhawa- 
chiak  kill  him?"  And  turning  to  his  partner  he 
burst  out —  "Shut  the  door,  Jim,  shut  the  door 
for  hell's  sake,  he'll  be  here  in  a  minute !" 

"No,"  said  Cropcana  reassuringly,  "no,  not  so 
quickly.  He  got  no  dogs  from  us,  for  he  was 
tired  and  fell  asleep  and  slept  so  heavily  that  he 
didn't  hear  us  harness  them  when  Topsia  came 
home  from  hunting.  He  sat  asleep  when  we 
started;  but  he  talked  in  his  sleep  about  Joe 
arid  Igluruk  and  about  Uyarak — he  talked 
about  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  stop  it,  stop  it,"  shouted  Joe.  "Give  me 
time  to  think.  So  he  was  asleep,  was  he? — 
ah,  if  I'd  caught  him  asleep  he'd  never  have 
waked  again.  What  shall  we  do,  Jim,  we  shall 
soon  have  this  madman  here,  he'll  kill  me — shut 
up,  Igluruk!  don't  howl,  it  don't  do  any  good  to 
cry,  shut  up,  can't  you ! —  Cropcana,  what  more 
did  he  say?" 

"He  didn't  say  much — only  muttered  in  his 
sleep  about  you  two  and  talked  about  killing — 
but  we  didn't  want  to  wake  him,  we  wanted  to 
get  a  good  start.  How  long  he  slept  we  don't 
know;  he  was  asleep  when  we  left  and  can't 
possibly  be  here  yet;  we  had  the  dogs  and  he  had 
none,  and  couldn't  get  any  before  he  reached 
Kanara's  iglo — he  has  dogs  and  a  sledge,  and 
he  has  always  been  friendly  with  Sakhawachiak." 


Frozen  Justice  95 

"Curse  the  woman!" — and  Joe  sprang  up  as 
though  he  would  strike  her.  "You're  torturing 
me  on  purpose.  Didn't  you  tell  Kanara  he 
mustn't  let  Sakhawachiak  have  his  dogs?  Get 
away  with  you — leave  me  alone  with  Jim.  Clear 
out — sharp !" 

A  couple  of  seconds  later  Cropcana  and  Topsia 
were  standing  outside  in  the  snow  by  their  sledge. 
They  felt  the  flour  sack  and  enjoyed  hearing  the 
creaking  of  the  contents  as  they  pressed  it;  they 
tasted  the  sugar,  and  then  drove  away  home- 
ward, well  pleased  with  their  bargain — but  they 
took  another  way  than  the  one  they  had  come 
by;  they  had  no  desire  to  meet  Sakhawachiak 
now. 

The  two  whites  and  Igluruk  were  left  in  the 
hut,  where  they  sat  in  uneasy  silence;  but  sud- 
denly Black  Joe  started  up.  "Jim,  Jim,  tell  me 
what  I'm  to  do!"  he  whimpered,  pale  with  fear 
and  shaking  with  apprehension.  "Jim,  you've 
got  to  help  me —     Oh,  Jim,  he'll  kill  me  sure!" 

"Yes,  p'raps  he  will,"  Jim  answered  quietly 
and  coolly — luckily  this  did  not  concern  him — 
"but  why  shouldn't  you  shoot  him? — easy  enough, 
and  I  don't  suppose  Sakhawachiak  has  a  gun 
with  him,  not  many  of  the  natives  have  them — 
he  has  only  his  spear,  so  it  oughtn't  to  be  very 
hard  to  manage  him,  and  he's  only  a  native,  isn't 
he?" 


96         Frozen  Justice 

uOh,  it's  all  right  for  you  to  talk,"  said  Joe 
hoarsely;  "it  isn't  you  he's  after,  but  me.  Sup- 
pose I  miss  him  and  he  harpoons  me" —  Black 
Joe  shuddered  at  the  thought;  he  took  his  head 
in  his  hands  in  desperate  attempt  to  collect  him- 
self.    "I  daren't,  Jim,  I  daren't." 

"All  right,  leave  it  alone,  let  him  kill  you;  I 
don't  care — it's  your  affair.  But  if  you  daren't 
stop  and  face  the  music — then  clear  out,  run  away 
down  the  coast  to  Point  Hope,  to  Candle,  to 
'Frisco,  if  you  like;  you  can  go  to  hell  for  all  I 
care,  it  don't  matter  a  cent  to  me.  But  if  you 
go,  take  that  shrieking  rag-bag  with  you;  it's 
enough  to  drive  a  man  mad  to  hear  her  howl" — 
Jim  turned  to  Igluruk —  "Shut  up,  you  slut, 
you're  not  being  murdered  yet,  are  you?  I 
wasn't  good-looking  enough  for  you;  I  hope 
you're  proud  of  your  handsome  husband — look 
at  him,  look  at  the  brave  hero!" 

Jim  turned  on  his  heel,  took  his  fur  coat 
from  its  peg  and  went  out — where  he  could 
quietly  hug  himself  over  this  new  piece  of  luck 
which  the  fickle  Dame  Fortune  had  tossed  into 
his  lap;  for  he  thought  it  a  sure  thing  that  Joe 
would  go,  and  then  everything  would  be  his, 
whalebone,  skins  and  all. 

An  hour  later  Jim  Hacklet  came  back  and  found 
the  house  turned  upside  down.  Joe  was  tearing 
about,  crazy,  beside  himself  with  fear,  throwing 


Frozen  Justice  97 

everything  topsy-turvy  and  flinging  his  belongings 
into  a  heap.  "What  are  you  up  to,  Joe?"  what 
are  you  looking  for?  what's  the  matter?"  asked 
Jim  with  a  grin. 

Joe  looked  up  at  him  with  eyes  fixed  in  deadly 
terror.  "I'm  going,  Jim,  I  daren't  meet  that 
madman,  he'll  kill  me.  But  you'll  stay  here,  and 
when  you  come  out  with  the  fleet  we'll  share  up 
won't  we,  Jim,  we'll  share  up  according  to  agree- 
ment." 

"No,"  said  Jim  curtly  and  firmly.  "If  you  quit 
and  leave  me  in  charge  here,  the  whole  caboodle 
goes  to  me.  If  you  stop  here,  we  share  up — 
supposing  you're  still  alive — that's  the  agree- 
ment; but  if  you  quit  or  get  perforated  by  Sakha- 
wachiak,  I  take  the  lot.  It  isn't  me  that's  driv- 
ing you  away  from  Nuwuk;  for  all  I  care  you  can 
stop  here  till  you  rot — it  don't  matter  a  curse  to 


me." 


Joe  begged  and  prayed  as  he  bustled  about. 
"Oh  Jim,  you  can't  be  so  hard  on  a  chap.  Haven't 
we  been  partners  through  thick  and  thin  for  a 
couple  of  years  nearly?  Let's  share  the  profits 
now,  and  I'll  take  the  smallest  share — only  give 
me  something." 

Jim  was  not  to  be  moved.  "Stay  or  go,  it's 
all  the  same  to  me;  but  if  you  go,  I'm  not  going 
to  share — unless  it's  with  Sakhawachiak,"  he 
added  with  a  malicious  laugh;  "when  all's  said  and 


98  Frozen  Justice 

done,  he  has  more  right  to  it  than  either  you  or 


me." 


Joe  decided  to  leave.  He  loaded  a  sledge  in 
a  hurry,  while  Jim  kept  an  eye  on  him  to  see 
that  he  didn't  take  any  of  their  common  property; 
and  with  the  best  dogs  to  be  had  in  Nuwuk  and 
Igluruk,  still  howling,  on  the  sledge  Joe  took  the 
southward  trail — never  to  return. 

That  day  the  whaling  was  suspended — the 
news  of  Joe's  departure  was  carried  right  out  to 
the  coast  water,  and  everybody  came  in  to  see  him 
start.  The  Eskimos  grinned  at  each  other  when 
they  saw  the  load  on  his  sledge,  and  the  women 
laughed  aloud  at  the  tearful  Igluruk — they  had 
long  despised  her  in  secret  and  now  they  let  her 
see  it  and  delighted  in  her  misfortune.  It  was 
not  the  fact  that  she  lived  with  the  white  man  or 
had  deserted  Sakhawachiak  that  brought  down 
the  women's  contempt  on  her — they  did  not  con- 
sider such  things  contemptible — it  was  her  in- 
capacity and  her  present  cowardice  that  they  de- 
spised. It  was  easy  to  see  that  her  father  had 
been  a  white  man,  she  showed  that  in  everything, 
both  inside  and  out;  nothing  good  ever  came  from 
that  race  except  flour  and  sugar  and  gay-coloured 
cloth. 

The  lashings  of  the  sledge  creaked  as  Joe 
started  it  with  a  crack  of  the  whip;  the  dogs 
sprang    forward   in    the    tracks    and    the   heavy 


Frozen  Justice  99 

sledge  swayed  from  side  to  side  as  it  went  off 
along  the  shore  with  the  hysterical  Igluruk  on 
the  top  of  the  load  and  the  terrified  Joe  at  the 
side. 

Sakhawachiak  came  next  day.  He  was  ex- 
pected; and  when  an  Eskimo  saw  a  sledge  coming 
over  the  ridge  and  drawing  near  at  furious  speed, 
he  called  out,  "Sakhawachiak  is  coming  1" 

That  ringing  shout  had  a  rousing  effect  on  the 
Eskimos.  One  man  after  another  took  it  up  and 
sent  it  on;  in  a  few  moments  the  cry  resounded 
all  over  the  settlement —  "Sakhawachiak  is  com- 
ing!"— and  from  the  ice,  from  their  huts  and 
working  places  the  Eskimos  came  running  up; 
they  wanted  to  be  there  when  he  settled  accounts 
with  the  white  men,  or  rather,  the  white  man,  for 
Jim  Hacklet  was  alone. 

Rapidly  Sakhawachiak  drew  near  over  the  hard- 
trodden  trail — yes,  it  was  he — they  all  knew  the 
tall,  slim  figure  standing  on  the  sledge  with  a 
spear  in  one  hand  and  the  cracking  whip  in  the 
other.  The  hood  of  his  anorak  had  blown  off 
his  head  and  his  long  hair  waved  freely  in  the 
wind.  He  stood  leaning  a  little  forward,  with 
his  legs  apart  to  keep  his  balance;  he  looked  like 
his  old  self  in  his  days  of  prosperity  when  he 
used  to  stand  in  the  bow  of  his  umiak  and  lead 
his  men  to  battle  with  the  whale. 


100        Frozen  Justice 

But  then  his  eyes  had  been  cool  and  calm,  not 
restless  as  they  were  now — they  huddled  together, 
his  friends  of  old  times,  as  he  drove  in  among 
them  and  leapt  off  the  sledge;  his  eyes  boded  no 
good  to  any  one  who-  might  cross  him. 

He  looked  around  the  circle  of  faces  with  a 
sharp  and  rapid  glance,  but  without  seeing  those 
he  had  hoped  to  find;  and  at  once  he  became 
calmer.  He  looked  about  again  to  find  a  friend, 
but  found  only  a  circle  of  dark,  serious  faces, 
without  a  smile  on  one  of  them.  .  .  .  Was  it 
his  old  authority  as  the  best  hunter  of  the  settle- 
ment, or  was  it  perhaps  the  pain  they  could  so 
clearly  read  in  his  face,  that  had  made  the  whole 
assemblage  serious,  silent,  sympathetic  towards 
the  man  who  had  once  been  so  powerful? 

He  opened  his  mouth  once  or  twice  as  though 
to  speak,  but  closed  it  again;  then  at  last  he  got 
out  the  words:     "Where  is  Igluruk?" 

Nobody  answered,  none  cared  to  risk  the  en- 
raged man's  unconsidered  vengeance.  They  had 
heard  of  Uyarak's  death — and  they  looked  down, 
every  one  of  them — nobody  daring  to  utter  the 
word — gone ! 

"Can't  you  hear?"  he  repeated  slowly  and 
clearly,  the  wild  look  coming  back  into  his  eyes — 
"can't  you  hear? — where  is  Igluruk?* — and 
Black  Joe — are  they  still  here?" 

Still  no  answer,  but  now  Sakhawachiak's  rage 


Frozen  Justice        101 

flared  up;  he  seized  the  nearest  man  and  shook 
him:  " Answer  me,  where's  Igluruk? — where's 
Black  Joe?" 

"Gone,"  stammered  the  man,  wrenching  him- 
self free  of  Sakhawachiak's  grip — "gone  yester- 
day, to  the  south." 

The  certainty  had  a  paralysing  effect  on  Sak- 
hawachiak,  and  a  sense  of  total  powerlessness 
overcame  him — after  all  his  furious  driving,  his 
violent  exertions  to  reach  Nuwuk  before  the  white 
man  could  take  alarm,  he  had  arrived  too  late. 
Black  Joe  had  escaped  his  grasp  and  eluded  his 
vengeance  for  the  moment — but  he  could  still  be 
reached,  he  could  not  be  far  away — he  must  be 
off  at  once. 

He  turned  to  go,  without  a  question,  without 
saying  a  word;  when  suddenly  he  heard  a  scorn- 
ful laugh  close  beside  him — he  recognized  it, 
turned  sharply  on  his  heel — and  looked  right  into 
Jim  Hacklet's  mocking  eyes. 

"Well,"  said  Jim;  "have  you  come  back  at 
last?  you  were  pretty  long  about  that  hunting, 
weren't  you? — but,  good  Lord,  man,  what  a  sight 
you  look!  It's  a  good  thing  Igluruk's  not  here — 
I  bet  she  wouldn't  have  known  you — no,  she 
chose  a  better-looking  man  when  she  went  off 
with  Black  Joe!" 

He  did  not  get  out  any  more,  for  with  one 
bound  Sakhawachiak  was  upon  his  white  enemy; 


102        Frozen  Justice 

he  gripped  his  throat,  trying  to  throttle  him,  and 
together  they  fell  to  the  ground. 

Jim  Hacklet  was  strong,  but  Sakhawachiak's 
choking  grip  nearly  took  his  strength  away;  he 
twisted  and  writhed  to  get  free,  but  Sakhawachiak 
held  fast  and  pounded  his  head  with  his  free  hand. 

Jim  was  nearly  done — when  he  succeeded  in 
turning  over  till  he  could  get  an  arm  up  above 
Sakhawachiak's  neck.  Then  he  forced  Sakha- 
wachiak's  chin  down  against  his  forehead,  bent 
his  adversary's  head  right  back  and  pressed — 
pressed  hard — an  unendurable  hold. 

That  saved  him.  Sakhawachiak  could  not  keep 
his  grip  on  Jim's  throat,  but  let  go;  and  breathing 
heavily  the  two  rolled  over  and  over  in  the  snow, 
while  the  Eskimos  stood  looking  on,  silent  and 
serious,  without  helping  either — the  past  and  the 
present  must  fight  out  their  battle  alone. 

Jim  Hacklet  was  strong,  but  Sakhawachiak  was 
stronger,  and  the  white  man  would  have  got  the 
worst  of  it  in  an  honourable  fight,  man  to  man. 
But  Jim  knew  nothing  about  honour,  either  in 
trading  or  fighting — a  knife  would  settle  the 
issue,  and  a  knife  he  would  use — he  summoned  all 
his  strength,  all  his  suppleness,  so  as  to  give  a  sud- 
den jerk  and  so  far  shake  off  the  furious  Eskimo 
that  he  could  draw  his  sheath-knife,  which  hung 
at  his  hip. 

He  managed  it — the  bright  knife  flashed  in  the 


Frozen  Justice        103 

sun — once,  twice — then  Sakhawachiak's  hold  re- 
laxed— his  right  arm  felt  limp  and  heavy.  Jim 
wrenched  himself  free  and  jumped  up,  bloody 
and  knocked  about,  but  victorious.  Once  more 
the  white  man  had  the  upper  hand! 

He  went  up  to  his  hut  without  troubling  about 
Sakhawachiak,  whom  he  left  sitting  on  the  bloody, 
trampled  snow  of  the  shore,  holding  his  right 
arm,  which  had  received  two  deep  knife  wounds. 
Jim  had  intended  to  stab  his  enemy  and  get  rid 
of  him  once  for  all,  but  only  succeeded  in  giv- 
ing him  wounds  which  would  keep  him  quiet  for  a 
few  days.  Soon  Sakahawachiak  would  be  ready 
to  resume  the  fight  with  his  white  enemy  and 
carry  it  through  to  the  bitter  end. 

Sakhawachiak  was  hard  put  to  it  to  get  dogs 
in  Nuwuk — nobody  dared  to  let  him  have  so  much 
as  a  single  animal,  for  Jim  Hacklet  had  forbidden 
it  and  threatened  any  one  who  helped  the  former 
chief  with  the  white  men's  persecution — not  for 
a  month,  not  for  a  year,  but  for  life,  always  and 
everywhere.  And  they  knew  that  this  was  no 
empty  threat;  the  white  men  could  do  it  if  they 
chose — so  much  had  the  Eskimos  learnt. 

Sakhawachiak  asked  all  his  former  comrades 
for  dogs,  but  in  vain;  and  then  tried  to  take  by 
force  what  he  could  not  get  by  fair  means — but 
here  again  he  came  up  against  the  white  man's 
power;  for  Jim  Hacklet,  without  showing  him- 


104        Frozen  Justice 

self,  as  he  had  no  wish  to  expose  himself  to 
another  meeting  with  Sakhawachiak,  had  given 
orders  to  collect  the  dogs,  to  keep  a  watch  over 
them,  and  to  strike  down  Sakhawachiak  if  he 
came  near. 

So  he  was  powerless,  but  nevertheless  he  started 
off  as  soon  as  his  wounds  were  more  or  less 
healed;  hatred  of  the  whites  and  of  Igluruk  drove 
him  out  on  the  perilous  pursuit — without  dogs, 
without  sledge,  with  only  a  pack  on  his  back. 
As  for  sitting  idly  in  his  old  hut — which  had 
been  Igluruk' s  home — that  only  inflamed  his  pas- 
sions even  more  acutely  than  when  he  was  flying 
along  the  trail  from  Kugerakuk  to  Nuwuk. 
Then  his  hatred  was  actually  for  Black  Joe  alone 
— but  now  his  feeling  against  Igluruk  increased 
with  every  minute.  He  went  over  in  his  mind 
all  that  she  had  said  and  done  during  the  past 
winter  and  began  to  see  that  she  was  not  the 
woman  he  had  believed  her  to  be — she  must  have 
been  casting  eyes  on  Black  Joe  and  perhaps  the 
fault  was  not  his  alone — his  hatred  of  Black 
Joe  had  not  abated,  but  he  swore  that  Igluruk 
should  not  escape  either. 

And  one  morning,  seven  days  after  Black  Joe 
had  driven  off  with  Igluruk  on  his  sledge,  Sakha- 
wachiak left  Nuwuk — the  pursuit  began  again. 
Now  he  knew  where  to  find  the  pair — right  in 
front  of  him  on  the  southward  trail — he  had  only 


Frozen  Justice        105 

to  go  on,  for  days,  weeks  or  months  at  a  stretch 
— to  keep  on  and  never  give  up,  however  far  the 
pursuit  might  lead  him.  Vengeance  he  would 
have,  there  was  no  rest  for  him  till  then;  only 
blood  could  quench  the  violent  agitation  of  his 
mind;  the  only  thing  was  to  hoi  I  on — sooner  or 
later  his  vengeance  would  be  accomplished. 


VI 

BLACK  JOE  and  Igluruk  had  reached 
Icy  Cape,  where  they  sat  in  a  white 
man's  house  telling  the  story  of  their 
troubled  journey. 

He  sat  at  the  table  with  the  white  men  of  the 
place,  drinking — she  sat  on  the  floor  with  the 
white  strangers'  women.  These  women  never 
said  a  word,  but  they  kept  their  eyes  fixed  on  the 
faces  of  their  lords,  for  they  had  learnt  what 
Igluruk  in  spite  of  all  had  not  yet  grasped — 
that  to  be  a  white  man's  woman  was  not  al- 
ways easy.  For  white  men  demand  uncon- 
ditional obedience  from  their  women:  the 
woman  is  a  servant,  nothing  more,  and  must 
be  ready  to  carry  out  the  least  wish  of  her 
master. 

And  so,  taught  by  experience,  four  pairs  of 
bright  eyes  kept  watch  on  the  white  men's  move- 
ments; they  looked  at  the  little  smoking  lamp 
which  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  table  casting  a 
yellowish  light  upon  ruddy,  bearded  faces;  they 
looked  at  the  array  of  bottles  and  jugs,  plates 
and  remains  of  food,  and  the  more  experienced  of 

106 


Frozen  Justice        107 

the  women  shuddered  to  think  of  the  night — a 
drunken  white  man  was  not  easy  to  please,  as  a 
big  scar  on  the  forehead  of  one  of  the  women 
bore  witness.  It  had  been  done  by  a  bottle 
thrown  by  her  man  in  a  drunken  fit,  which  had 
broken  on  her  forehead,  leaving  a  big  gaping 
wound  and  an  injured  eye. 

And  the  women  grew  more  and  more  silent  as 
the  bottle  went  round,  but  as  yet  there  was  no 
immediate  danger — the  men  laughed  and  banged 
the  table,  they  were  enjoying  Black  Joe's  story 
immensely. 

He  had  calmed  down  at  last.  All  those  miles 
of  sledging  from  Nuwuk  to  Icy  Cape  had  lulled 
his  fears;  he  could  no  longer  understand  his  ter- 
ror of  Sakhawachiak  and  even  had  some  thoughts 
of  returning.  "After  all  he's  only  a  nigger,"  he 
said  to  the  other  three  with  a  laugh;  "what's  it 
matter  if  I  take  his  woman?  we're  whites  and  can 
do  what  we  like." 

His  companions  agreed.  "Yes,  we're  whites 
and  masters  of  the  country — he  ought  to  be  proud 
of  having  a  woman  pretty  enough  for  us  to  care 
to  touch  her.  I  took  that  woman  there  from  a 
young  fellow,"  said  Tom,  the  one  who  had  thrown 
the  bottle,  pointing  to  his  damaged  female — "but 
I  didn't  clear  out;  I  stayed  where  I  was  and  just 
promised  the  fellow  grub  and  gear  in  exchange. 
Now  he's  going  about  the  settlement  here  work- 


108        Frozen  Justice 

ing  for  me — he's  taken  another  woman — we're 
none  the  worse  friends  for  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Joe,  smiling  rather  shamefacedly; 
"that's  how  it  ought  to  be — but  Sakhawachiak 
isn't  like  the  other  Eskimos,  you  know  that  well 
enough.  He's  not  going  to  be  satisfied  with 
grub  and  gear  and  another  woman — no,  he's 
more  white  than  any  other  Eskimo  on  the  whole 
coast  and  feels  pretty  much  as  we  do.  And  it's 
a  shame  the  way  skippers  of  the  fleet  have  always 
buttered  him  up  and  spoilt  him —  Devil  take  him 
and  Igluruk,  I  wish  I'd  never  collared  the  girl!" 

"Well  den,  gif  her  back,"  one  of  the  others 
interjected;  he  was  a  German  who  had  lived  many 
years  at  Icy  Cape;  Fritz  they  called  him — "leddim 
haf  de  girl  back,  she  ain't  none  de  worse.  Vat's 
it  matter  to  him  if  you've  had  her  a  month  or 
so.  Down  here  the  men  are  proud  ven  we  take 
their  women — and  we  take  many — "  he  added 
with  a  grin. 

"Yes,   but  Sakhawachiak — "  Joe   interrupted. 

"Oh,  you  and  your  Sakhawachiak,"  wheezed 
Fritz — "one  should  tink  you  vas  afraid  of  him. 
Vat  kind  of  a  feller  is  he  anyway,  that  you  vant  to 
treat  him  different  from  the  rest  of  the  crowd? 
No,  you're  to  soft  up  at  Nuwuk —  I  don't  know 
Jim  Hacklet,  but  bust  me  if  I  understand  vy  you 
run  away  and  gif  him  your  share  of  two  years' 
hunting.     I  guess  he's  more  of  a  man  than  you, 


Frozen  Justice        109 

Joe — he  don't  run,  he  ain't  afraid;  vy  didn't  you 
let  him  manage  dis  job  for  you?  I  bet  Jim  can 
shoot  and  shoot  straight — he  can  arrange  der  ting 
mit  Sakhawachiak,  or  if  he  don't  he'll  put  a  bul- 
let in  his  head." 

"Yes,  you  can  talk,"  said  Joe,  who  was  writh- 
ing under  the  sneers  of  the  others;  "but  you  only 
know  the  man  by  hearsay,  you  don't  know  what 
a  big  guy  he  is  at  Nuwuk — why,  he  might  have  set 
the  whole  population  on  to  us — and  we  were 
only  two." 

"Yes,  and  now  dere's  only  von,"  Fritz  put  in; 
"but  vat  of  it,  Joe?  two  vites  with  good  modern 
rifles  can  stand  up  against  a  crowd  of  natives, 
eh?  Anyway,  Jim's  alone  now,  it's  shust  twice 
so  bad  for  him;  but  you  watch  him  now,  you  see 
if  he  don't  come  out  all  right!" 

"Oh,  stop  that  wrangling,"  Tom  interposed  as 
peacemaker;  "you're  always  kicking  up  a  fuss, 
Fritz.  We've  been  sitting  alone  here  all  the  win- 
ter, and  now  comes  Joe,  bless  him,  with  a  whole 
bundle  of  news,  not  to  mention  a  pretty  girl  in 
tow — a  sight  prettier  than  any  of  our  old  squaws," 
he  added,  his  eyes  straying  amorously  to  Igluruk 
— "we  ought  to  be  glad,  we  ought  to  have  put  up 
a  triumphal  arch  over  the  bridal  pair — but  what 
are  we  doing?  Instead  of  rejoicing  you  start 
ragging  the  man  and  letting  him  have  it  as  though 
it  was  your  girl  he'd  lifted.     No,  you  tell  us  a  bit 


110        Frozen  Justice 

about  the  journey,  Joe,  I  guess  it  wasn't  too 
slow — wish  she'd  chosen  me  for  the  trip." 

"Oh,  do  you?"  Joe  answered  with  a  rather 
tired  smile.  "Well,  I  dare  say.  But  I  can  tell 
you  one  thing — if  you'd  driven  her  all  the  way 
from  Nuwuk  here  you  wouldn't  be  so  keen  on  her 
company — no,  you'd  unload  her  on  the  way,  after 
her.  .  .  ." 

"Why,  good  Lord  almighty,  Joe,  what  are  you 
saying?"  Tom  laughed,  half  scared  at  the  idea. 
"Unload  her  on  the  way — no,  thanks  all  the  same, 
not  here  anyway,  we've  got  trouble  enough  with- 
out her.  And  what's  more,  we  might  have  that 
crazy  guy  Sakhawachiak  here  raising  hell — no, 
Joe,  if  that's  your  idea,  think  again;  it  don't  go, 
nice  girl  as  she  is." 

"Why  can't  you  let  me  have  my  say?"  snapped 
Joe,  getting  surly.  "First  you  want  to  make  me 
out  a  fool,  then  you  ask  me  for  my  story,  and 
as  soon  as  I  start  telling  it,  you  chip  in  and  make 
a  fuss.  Who  said  I  wanted  to  leave  Igluruk  be- 
hind with  you?  Can't  you  let  a  man  say  a  word 
without  jumping  on  him?" 

"He's  right,"  said  the  third  man,  an  American 
like  Tom;  Richard  was  his  name — "let  Joe  tell 
his  story  in  peace.  Light  your  pipes  and  see  if  you 
can't  keep  quiet  till  he's  done — you  can  scrap 
afterwards  if  need  be,  turn  the  house  upside  down 
if  you  like,  but  remember,  Joe's  our  guest.     Go 


Frozen  Justice        111 

ahead,  Joe,  tell  us  some  more  about  Igluruk.  She 
don't  seem  to  show  her  best  side  on  a  sledge 
journey,  according  to  what  you  were  saying." 

"No,  by  God  she  don't,"  said  Joe  with  convic- 
tion— "and  I  can  thank  Sakhawachiak  for  that. 
He's  never  had  her  out  of  Nuwuk — she  was  to 
be  spared  all  the  trouble  of  travelling — so  it 
was  me  that  had  the  pleasure  of  breaking  her  in. 
And  the  woman  won't  work;  she  likes  to  sit  on 
the  sledge  and  shout  at  the  dogs,  but  as  for  mak- 
ing herself  useful — never  had  an  idea  of  it.  I 
had  to  sweat  all  day  like  a  horse  with  that 
blasted  sledge;  I've  worked  till  my  limbs  ached 
and  felt  like  lead  when  I  camped  after  a  day's 
sledging.  And  d'you  think  she  helped  me  then? 
— not  on  your  life !  I  had  to  take  the  dogs  out, 
pitch  the  tent,  unload  the  sledge  and  carry  every- 
thing in — and  often  enough  I  had  to  cook  too," 
Joe  sighed — ushe  said  she  was  too  tired." 

Fritz  sat  staring  at  Joe  in  amazement  while  he 
told  his  story,  casting  angry  glances  at  Igluruk, 
but  now  he  could  contain  himself  no  longer.  "Oh, 
look  here,  Joe,"  he  began  'earnestly,  clinking 
glasses  with  him;  "I'm  real  sorry  for  you,  that's 
sure;  but  believe  me,  it's  your  own  fault.  You 
don't  treat  women  the  right  way.  Shust  you  let 
me  cure  her  of  them  funny  ideas,  shall  I?  It's 
so  easy — "  and  Fritz  thumped  the  table,  making 
the  bottles  and  glasses  jump. 


112        Frozen  Justice 

"No  you  shan't,"  said  Joe  roughly;  "that's  my 
business.  But  she  was  exhausting  to  travel  with, 
that's  sure,  especially  at  the  start.  Then  she 
was  awful  scared  of  Sakhawachiak  and  would 
start  up  from  her  sleep  at  night  with  a  screech, 
catch  hold  of  me  and  shake  me  till  I  woke,  and 
it  was  'Joe,  come  on,  Joe,  let's  get  on,  I  believe 
Sakhawachiak's  coming' !" 

"And  so  then  you  trotted  on?"  asked  Tom 
with  a  smile.  "You  were  a  bit  scared  yourself 
and  started  sledging  in  the  middle  of  the  night — 
eh,  Joe,  didn't  you?" 

"Sometimes,"  rejoined  Joe  quietly;  "some- 
times. But  tell  me  this,  you  fellows — have  you 
ever  tried  what  it's  like  to  have  death  following 
your  sledge?  Is  there  any  one  of  you  that  knows 
how  it  would  feel  to  have  a  man  suddenly  creeping 
up  to  your  tent  with  a  spear  and  sticking  it — stick- 
ing it  into  everything  that  moved  inside,  until  it 
didn't  move  any  more?  Have  you  ever  thought 
about  that? — or  have  you  ever  been  out  on  the 
ice,  alone  at  night,  and  suddenly  had  the  feeling 
that  there  was  somebody  or  something  coming 
stealthily  behind  you?  Haven't  you  heard  the 
ice  crack  so  that  it  sounded  like  footsteps — have 
you  never  felt  a  vague  terror  for  some  unknown 
danger,  and  looked  round  at  every  step,  and 
walked  faster  and  faster  till  you  break  into  a  run, 
and   run — and   run,    faster   and   faster,    looking 


Frozen  Justice        113 

back  in  fear  of  something  that  may  oe  hiding 
behind  the  nearest  hummock — a  man  or  a  bear 
or  something  supernatural — it  doesn't  matter 
what,  but  something  that  can  harm  you,  some- 
thing you're  afraid  to  meet?" 

None  of  the  three  said  a  word;  they  were  think- 
ing of  lonely  journeys  with  fear  as  their  only 
companion.  Yes,  they  knew  the  feeling,  that 
nameless  terror  that  suddenly  comes  over  one 
when  walking  alone  in  the  desert  of  ice — they  be- 
gan to  understand  Joe;  they  could  imagine  that  he 
had  gone  through  some  terrible  hours,  especially 
at  night. 

"But  why  didn't  you  force  her  to  keep  quiet? 
Why  didn't  you  gag  her,  so  that  you  didn't  hear 
her  shrieking?" 

"No,"  said  Joe,  "I  could  make  her  keep  quiet 
all  right — outwardly — and  I  did  it  more  than 
once.  But  that  was  worse  than  her  shrieking — 
it  was  as  if  she  was  shrieking  inwardly  with 
fright — and  then  I  began  to  wonder  if  she  had 
second  sight  and  could  see  something  coming. 
You  know,  lots  of  the  natives  have  it — I  thought, 
perhaps  she  was  trying  to  warn  me — I  couldn't 
stand  it,  had  to  talk  to  her.  .  .  .  No,"  said  Joe, 
shaking  his  head,  "you  bet  your  life,  it  was  a 
tough  time. 

"And  then,  when  we  got  started  again" — Joe 
went  on —  "and  had  gone  a  few  miles,  she  calmed 


114        Frozen  Justice 

down  and  didn't  holler  any  more.  She  might 
even  get  quite  lively,  laughing  and  clapping  her 
hands  and  telling  me  what  a  dandy  dog-puncher 
I  was.  Sometimes  she  would  be  so  happy  and 
cuddle  up  close  to  me,  when  we  had  to  stop  and 
rest  the  dogs,  telling  me  she  wasn't  a  bit  afraid 
any  more —  'No,'  she  would  say,  'as  long  as  you're 
with  me  it's  all  right' — and  then  she  would  put  her 
arms  round  my  neck  and  look  at  me — ooh! — " 
Joe's  feelings  overcame  him — "like — well,  I 
don't  know  how  to  tell  you — you  know  how  I 
mean.  .  .  ." 

"Well,  I'm  darned  if  you  ain't  a  nice  pair," 
laughed  Richard — "you're  a  plucky  couple  to  be 
out  on  the  trail. —  But  what  happened  then?  you 
don't  tell  me  you  kept  up  that  love-making  all 
day? — ugh,  in  that  cold!"  he  added  with  a  shiver. 

"No,"  Joe  admitted;  "as  a  rule  it  wasn't  long 
before  things  went  wrong  again.  Oh,  you  bet 
it  was  a  gay  time — at  night  she  hollered  for  fear 
of  Sakhawachiak — and  in  the  daytime  because  I 
drove  too  fast  and  got  her  tired.  She  would 
sit  up  on  top  of  the  load  and  cry  quietly,  trying 
to  get  me  to  stop;  and  if  that  didn't  work,  she 
howled  out  loud  and  started  scolding — said  there 
was  no  sense  in  driving  like  that,  Sakhawachiak 
couldn't  catch  us  up,  p'raps  he  wasn't  even  follow- 
ing us — it  was  only  our  own  fear  that  was  driv- 
ing us — come,  let's  camp  !" 


Frozen  Justice        115 

"And  what  then?"  asked  Fritz,  bewildered. 

"What  then?"  Joe  gave  a  stupid  grin — "why 
then  we  camped,  if  there  wasn't  a  house  near. 
You  don't  suppose  I  could  trail  all  over  the 
country  with  that  creature  howling  like  mad;  be- 
sides I  didn't  think  myself  there  was  any  partic- 
ular reason  to  drive  so  cursed  fast." 

The  three  others  whistled  and  looked  at  each 
other.  Crazy,  their  eyes  said,  with  a  laugh — 
clean  crazy — all  for  an  Eskimo  bit  of  goods. — 
"What  next,  Joe?  go  on." 

And  Joe  told  all  about  his  troubles  on  the  jour- 
ney, about  Igluruk's  waywardness,  about  the 
blamed  uneven  ice  and  the  masses  of  soft  snow. 
He  told  about  blizzards  so  heavy  and  cutting  that 
sledging  was  impossible  against  the  wind  and 
driving  snow;  he  told  of  lashings  that  had  to  be  re- 
paired with  the  thermometer  forty  below,  of 
dogs  that  gave  up,  of  Eskimos  he  had  met  on  the 
trail.    He  laughed  till  he  choked  at  the  thought. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  said  to  all  the  Eski- 
mos I  met?"  he  asked  his  companions.  "I  told 
them  Sakhawachiak  had  gone  mad,  and  that  he 
was  coming  along  on  a  sledge  and  would  demand 
food  and  dogs.  But  they'd  have  to  look  out,  I 
told  them,  because  this  madness  of  his  was  catch- 
ing— if  only  the  madman  caught  their  eyes  and 
looked  into  them,  they'd  go  mad  themselves — and 
if  they  gave  him  grub  or  dogs  or  sledges  or  helped 


116        Frozen  Justice 

him  at  all  they'd  be  clean  done  for.  They'd 
have  to  keep  him  away  from  their  houses  and 
settlements,  throw  stones  at  him,  and  if  he  kept 
coming  near,  they  were  to  shoot  him,  if  they  had 
any  gun — that  was  the  safest;  but  if  they  hadn't 
any,  a  harpoon  was  not  so  bad. 

"You  bet  he'll  have  a  cheerful  journey,"  Joe 
went  on — "I've  made  it  nice  and  hot  for  him — 
there  isn't  a  single  Eskimo  between  Icy  Cape 
and  Nuwuk  that'll  help  him,  you  can  be  sure  of 
that." 

This  was  something  his  mates  could  under- 
stand; they  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  their 
cheeks:  "Joe,  old  man,  you  may  not  be  a  hero, 
but  blame  me  if  you  ain't  cute." 

Igluruk  and  Black  Joe  stayed  some  days  with 
the  white  men — they  felt  there  was  safety  in 
numbers.  But  one  day  a  sledge  arrived  from 
the  north,  and  Tom  met  the  man  just  as  he  was 
driving  into  the  settlement.  He  brought  him 
along  to  the  white  men's  house. —  "Mates,  here's 
news  for  you!" 

The  man  had  been  sent  off  by  Jim  Hacklet 
with  an  express  message  for  Black  Joe.  "Get  on 
as  fast  as  you  can,"  ran  the  message, — "keep 
on  driving,  don't  stop  on  the  way,  don't  rest  any 
longer  than  you  have  to,  keep  on  all  the  time 
till  you  reach  white  men's  towns — and  don't 
ever   think  of  coming  back  to   Nuwuk — it's   as 


___ 


Frozen  Justice        117 

much  as  your  life  is  worth."  And  the  messenger 
reported  about  Sakhawachiak' s  arrival  like  a  mad- 
man, how  he  had  nearly  strangled  Jim  Hacklet  and 
had  himself  been  wounded  by  Jim's  knife.  He 
told  of  the  incredibly  short  time  Sakhawachiak 
took  to  come  from  the  Kugerakuk  to  Nuwuk,  and 
gave  the  report  which  had  rapidly  spread  through 
the  settlement — that  Sakhawachiak  had  har- 
pooned Uyarak  when  he  brought  the  news  about 
Igluruk  and  Black  Joe  to  the  snow  town  on  the 
Kugerakuk. 

There  was  silence  in  the  white  men's  house  when 
the  messenger  had  finished — the  three  men  ex- 
changed looks  and  understood  now  why  Joe  had 
cleared  out;  they  nodded  silently,  as  much  as  to 
say:  "Well,  after  all  we  might  have  done  the 
same  as  Black  Joe" — and  then  they  looked  at  him, 
sitting  there  as  before,  with  his  head  resting  on 
his  left  hand.  His  face  was  pale,  white  as 
chalk,  his  eyes  were  uncannily  dark  and  staring; 
with  his  finger  he  was  tracing  something  in  the 
whisky  spilt  on  the  table.  Sakhawachiak  he 
wrote,  nothing  else,  just  Sakhawachiak — but  that 
was  enough;  with  a  sigh  he  dropped  his  head  on 
his  arm  and  groaned  in  his  terror:  God,  if  he 
came ! — the  terrible  avenger,  like  Fate  itself — 
what  was  he  to  do,  what  could  he  do? 

Get  on — yes  of  course  he  must  get  on,  there 
was  nothing  else  for  it;  but  then  the  weary  work 


118        Frozen  Justice 

would  begin  again,  the  anxious  nights  with 
broken  sleep,  the  hurried  starts  with  Igluruk 
shrieking,  the  everlasting  struggle  by  the  side  of 
the  sledge  in  storm  and  snow,  the  many,  many 
days  without  rest,  the  wearing  life  of  the  trail 
without  peace  or  quiet — oh  Igluruk,  would  that 
I  had  left  Sakhawachiak  keep  you!  you  were 
fair  and  your  embraces  were  sweet,  but  God  in 
heaven  what  a  price  to  pay! 

Thus  thought  Joe,  as  he  lay  half  across  the 
table  with  his  head  on  his  arm;  he  did  not  hear 
the  reassuring  words  of  his  mates,  nor  even  the 
howls  of  Igluruk;  he  thought  only  of  death  and 
seemed  to  feel  its  clammy  fingers  on  his  throat. 
He  noticed  nothing — not  even  when  Fritz  sprang 
up,  seized  Igluruk  by  the  shoulder  and  dragged 
her  outside  the  hut.  "Damn  the  woman!  I 
gif  you  som  ding  to  cry  for,"  the  German  hissed 
between  his  teeth — "if  your  man  don't  behandle 
you  properly,  then  must  I — take  that! — and  be 
quiet,  or  I'll  kill  you!"  And  the  blows  of  his 
stick  fell  mercilessly  upon  the  screaming  woman's 
back. 

His  companions  were  busy;  with  the  help  of  the 
Eskimos  they  loaded  Joe's  sledge  and  then  went 
in  to  get  some  food  ready.  The  smell  of  fried 
meat  filled  the  room.  "Grub's  ready,  Joe,  and 
if  you're  a  man,  pull  yourself  together  and  eat. 
Your  sledge  is  loaded,  your  dogs  are  rested;  you 


Frozen  Justice        119 

must  drive  to  the  south  and  keep  on  driving  till 
you  get  far  down  into  Alaska,  to  places  where 
Sakhawachiak  can't  get  at  you.  You  were  right, 
it's  life  or  death  for  you — now  drive  for  it!" 
So  once  more  Joe  started  off,  with  the  weeping 
Igluruk  trudging  beside  the  sledge.  The  three 
dwellers  at  Icy  Cape  were  glad  to  see  them  dis- 
appear among  the  hummocks  to  the  south — only 
when  they  were  gone  could  they  shake  off  the 
uneasiness  that  had  come  over  them  all  at  the 
news  of  Sakhawachiak's  having  killed  Uyarak, 
once  the  most  dreaded  man  in  Nuwuk. 


VII 

THE  Eskimos  of  Nuwuk  shook  their  heads 
when  they  saw  Sahawachiak  start  off 
without  dogs,  without  sledge,  with  only 
a  little  food  on  his  back,  and  a  rifle.  It  was  not 
often  he  used  the  white  man's  arms — he  had 
never  yet  fully  trusted  them — but  now,  in  fighting 
the  white  men  themselves,  he  had  to  use  them. 
A  spear  was  a  good  thing  for  hand-to-hand  fight- 
ing; but  he  knew  the  whites  well  enough  to  realize 
that  there  was  little  likelihood  of  that.  There 
would  be  shooting  at  long  range,  so  a  rifle  was 
best  for  him  too.  But  he  had  a  spear  with  him 
all  the  same,  and  whenever  he  thought  of  the 
moment  when  at  last  he  should  have  overtaken 
his  enemy  and  could  wreak  his  vengeance,  he 
never  imagined  himself  lying  and  taking  aim  from 
a  distance — no,  he  would  be  close  up,  hand  to 
hand,  man  to  man.  That  was  his  hope,  and  his 
hands  clenched  convulsively — he  longed  for  it 
and  seemed  to  feel  Joe's  struggling  body  already 
under  him;  it  gave  him  a  malicious  joy  to  think  of 
that  moment,  when  his  hands  could  grasp  Joe's 
throat   and   squeeze,    squeeze — till    his   enemy's 

120 


Frozen  Justice        121 


movements  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  till  all  re- 
sistance ceased  and  he  could  fling  the  lifeless, 
hated  body  from  him. 

But  the  rifle  was  safest  after  all,  and  with  it 
on  his  back  and  the  spear  in  his  hand  as  a  staff 
he  left  Nuwuk,  which  breathed  more  freely  when 
it  had  seen  the  last  of  him. 

Now  running,  now  walking  he  made  his  way 
down  the  coast,  where  he  knew  every  inch  of  the 
ground  from  former  journeys.  He  knew  where 
he  would  find  the  best  going,  and  ran  along  the 
low  flat  sandhills,  which  just  rose  sufficiently  high 
above  the  uneven  shore  ice  for  the  wind  to  sweep 
the  snow  off  them.  There  the  going  was  good, 
and  he  ran  all  day  long,  ran  to  overtake  the 
fugitive  couple,  ran  to  soothe  his  feelings,  to  find 
rest  and  peace  from  his  gnawing  thoughts. 

On  the  first  day  the  weather  was  fine,  so 
Sakhawachiak  had  covered  a  good  distance  before 
darkness  fell  and  compelled  him  to  seek  shelter 
in  an  iglo  he  knew  of. 

But  Joe  had  been  there,  and  when  Sakhawa- 
chiak at  last  reached  the  hut,  he  found  it  empty. 
There  was  not  a  soul  to  be  seen,  nor  a  dog,  but 
plenty  of  fresh  tracks  which  told  his  practised 
eye  what  had  happened.  The  occupants  of  the 
house  had  driven  eastward,  inland,  quite  a  short 
while  ago.  Sakhawachiak  was  puzzled,  he  didn't 
understand  it — why  drive  eastward  and  inland, 


122        Frozen  Justice 

taking  everything  from  inside  and  outside  the 
iglo,  so  late  in  the  day?  What  could  it  mean 
and  where  were  they  going? — they  could  not  be 
far  off,  their  tracks  were  quite  fresh,  and  for  a 
moment  he  thought  of  following  them — he 
longed  to  meet  countrymen  so  as  to  get  news  of 
Black  Joe's  flight,  friends  who  could  tell  him 
when  Joe  had  left  there.  But  there  was  no  one, 
and  he  soon  gave  up  the  idea  of  following — he 
crawled  into  the  deserted  hut,  cooked  a  little 
food,  and  slept — slept  as  only  a  man  can  whose 
day's  work  has  been  a  run  of  forty  miles. 

Next  day  it  was  blowing  a  gale  from  the  north- 
ward and  the  snow  was  whirling  high  when  Sak- 
hawachiak  resumed  his  run  down  the  coast.  He 
tried  running  on  the  sand  dunes,  as  on  the 
previous  day,  but  could  not  manage  it  in  the 
furious  gale — no  snow  lay  there  and  the  sand- 
banks were  coated  with  a  thin  layer  of  slippery 
ice — when  a  gust  came  he  slid  away  and  could 
not  keep  his  feet. 

It  wouldn't  do,  it  was  too  dangerous;  so  he 
went  down  to  the  shore,  to  the  sea  ice,  where  he 
could  find  foot-hold.  The  wind  whistled  and 
whirled  clouds  of  snow  over  the  lonely  wanderer; 
he  staggered  and  swayed  in  the  tremendous  gusts 
of  wind  and  tried,  often  in  vain,  to  keep  his 
balance.     But  what  did  a  fall  matter? — he  could 


Frozen  Justice        123 

always  get  up  again  and  run,  keep  on  running,  till 
he  had  another  fall. 

The  wind  shrieked  louder,  it  howled  and 
growled  around  him;  the  sky  was  dark  and  over- 
cast; the  sun  was  gone,  there  were  no  shadows. 
The  ice  looked  perfectly  flat,  every  unevenness 
vanished  in  the  bad  light,  and  Sakhawachiak 
stumbled  on  blindly,  falling  into  deep  holes  or 
over  big  blocks  of  ice.  Then  he  tried  further 
out,  away  from  the  hummocky  shore  ice,  found 
some  big  even  floes  and  ran  on;  but  the  snow  was 
soft,  he  sank  deep  into  it — to  the  knees,  often 
deeper ;  it  was  impossible  to  make  headway.  Then 
back  to  land,  and  thus,  knocked  about,  confused, 
blinded  by  the  snow  and  blown  forward  by  the 
wind,  he  hurried  on  southward  with  his  rifle  on 
his  back  and  his  spear  in  his  hand,  ready  to  kill 
at  sight. 

He  could  go  no  further,  had  to  seek  shelter; 
and  at  last  he  found  a  trail,  followed  it,  and 
presently  stood  outside  an  iglo,  half  blotted  out 
by  the  driving  snow. 

He  knocked  the  worst  of  the  snow  off  his 
clothes  and  crawled  through  the  long  passage 
into  the  iglo,  thrust  aside  the  skin  curtain — the 
door — and  saw  nine  or  ten  men  and  women  sit- 
ting inside  in  the  warm  room. 

They  all  turned  towards  the  opening  and  there 


124        Frozen  Justice 

saw  a  stranger  covered  with  snow.  Of  his  face 
only  a  glimpse  here  and  there  could  be  seen; 
there  was  ice  in  his  hair  and  his  eyebrows  were 
covered  with  it;  even  the  eyelashes  hung  heavy 
with  little  beads  of  ice  at  the  ends.  The  lower 
part  of  his  face  was  hidden  by  the  anorak,  which 
was  frozen  to  ice;  there  was  ice  all  over  him, 
only  his  eyes  were  free — black  and  sparkling  as 
they  looked  into  the  hut. 

"Come  in,  stranger/'  said  the  one  who  sat 
nearest;  but  the  invitation  was  superfluous,  for 
Sakhawachiak  was  already  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  iglo,  thawing  his  frozen  anorak  with  his 
hands,  at  the  same  time  breaking  big  pieces  of 
ice  off  the  few  hairs  of  his  beard.  It  was  ugly 
weather  outside. 

"Who  are  you?"  one  of  them  asked. 

"Sakhawachiak — from  Nuwuk,"  came  the  an- 
swer slowly. 

"Sakhawachiak!  .  .  ." 

They  looked  at  each  other,  these  half-naked 
inmates  of  the  iglo,  and  turned  away.  What 
was  it  the  white  man  had  said?  Sakhawachiak 
was  mad,  he  had  told  them,  and  they  would  all 
go  mad  if  he  looked  them  in  the  eyes;  they  would 
be  completely  done  for  if  they  gave  him  dogs  or 
food  or  helped  him  in  any  way. 

Silence  fell  on  the  hut — all  turned  their  backs 
to  Sakhawachiak,  who  had  now  dragged  off  most 


Frozen  Justice        125 

of  his  clothing  and  beaten  the  ice  and  snow  out 
of  it;  then  he  asked:  "Have  you  seen  anything 
of  Black  Joe  and — Igluruk?" 

Nobody  answered;  in  silence  they  all  sat  with 
their  backs  turned  to  the  unwelcome  guest. 
Mad,  the  white  man  had  said  he  was — and  they 
had  scarcely  believed  it;  but  a  man  must  be  mad 
to  be  travelling  in  such  weather  without  dogs  or 
sledge,  they  could  all  understand  that. 

"Can't  you  hear?  I  asked  about  Joe — when 
was  he  here?" 

Not  a  sound  in  reply;  the  whole  lot  of  them 
sat  still,  glancing  at  each  other  in  a  frightened 
way  and  scarcely  daring  to  breathe. 

Sakhawachiak  got  angry — he  jumped  up  and 
addressed  one  of  the  inmates  of  the  house  whom 
he  knew  because  he  had  often  been  at  Nuwuk: 
"You,  Kreeseek,  why  don't  you  answer?  What's 
wrong?     I  asked  about  Joe  and  Igluruk!" 

Kreeseek  got  frightened  and  began  to  speak 
with  his  back  still  turned  to  Sakhawachiak. 
"Joe  said  you  were  mad.  Joe  said  we  should 
go  mad  if  we  helped  you.  You'd  better  go 
away — what  do  you  want  here?" 

"Food,"  said  Sakhawachiak — "and  rest.  It's 
stormy  outside ;  I've  come  here  from  Nuwuk  with- 
out dogs  or  sledge,  I  can't  hold  out  any  longer. 
But  don't  believe  what  Joe  says,"  he  continued; 
"don't  believe  the  white  man.     I  believed  him 


126        Frozen  Justice 

once — he  took  my  woman  while  I  was  away — 
now  I'm  after  them,  I'm  going  to  kill  them — I 
won't  do  you  any  harm,  but  food  I  must  have, 
and  if  you  won't  give  it  me  I'll  take  it  myself." 

Sakhawachiak  had  not  expected  this  reception. 
He  understood  now  why  he  had  found  the  last 
iglo  empty — its  inmates  had  seen  him  coming  and 
had  fled  in  time ;  but  here  he  had  taken  them  un- 
awares-— they  could  not  escape. 

They  consulted — still  with  their  backs  to  the 
unbidden  guest.  What  shall  we  do? — of  course 
it's  the  act  of  a  madman  to  be  out  in  such 
weather,  especially  without  sledge  or  dogs  and  so 
far  from  Nuwuk — but  he  is  one  of  our  own  peo- 
ple and  doesn't  behave  like  a  madman  in  other 
ways.  We  can't  let  him  go — and  who  knows 
whether  we  could  even  get  him  out  of  the  iglo? 
Better  humour  him — the  oldest  woman  is  any- 
how so  old  that  she  must  soon  die;  she'll  have  to 
risk  it  and  cook  some  food  for  Sakhawachiak. 

And  so  it  was  settled.  She  was  accustomed 
to  obey  and  accepted  her  fate.  She  got  some 
food  ready  for  Sakhawachiak  and  mended  his 
torn  clothing — but  she  did  not  look  at  him.  It 
is  dangerous  to  look  at  one  who  is  possessed  of 
evil  spirits;  she  had  to  help  him — the  others  or- 
dered her — but  no  power  on  earth  could  make 
her  look  at  the  madman,  and  she  trembled,  poor 


Frozen  Justice        127 

old  soul,  so  that  she  could  scarcely  hold  her 
needle  and  thread. 

Sakhawachiak  made  his  meal  in  silence — in 
silence  all  the  people  of  the  iglo  sat  with  their 
naked,  glistening  backs  turned  towards  him  as  he 
ate;  and  long  after  he  had  finished  he  sat  still, 
pondering  the  white  men's  malice.  They  took 
his  woman,  fled  the  country  with  her,  and  when 
he  wanted  to  avenge  his  wrong  and  pursue  the 
pair,  they  proclaimed  him  mad  to  every  one 
they  met; — accursed  whites,  there  were  no  bounds 
to  their  infamy! 

He  made  one  more  attempt  to  learn  some- 
thing of  the  flight  of  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk. 
"Friends,"  he  said,  addressing  the  naked  backs, 
"the  white  man  has  told  you  I  am  mad,  to  stop 
you  from  helping  me — but  mad  I  am  not.  I 
should  like  to  have  dogs  and  a  sledge,  though 
I  can  get  on  without  them,  but  one  thing  I  will 
know — when  was  Black  Joe  here?" 

They  whispered  among  themselves — it  wasn't 
their  fault  that  he  had  got  into  the  iglo — he  was 
there  before  they  knew  what  was  happening, 
and  there  he  sat  just  behind  them  with  his  spear 
in  his  hand.  They  were  unarmed — all  their 
spears  lay  outside  the  door  in  the  long  passage — 
and  if  they  didn't  answer  him  there  was  a  risk 
that  he  would  use  force.     For  they  had  heard 


128        Frozen  Justice 

about  the  killing  of  Uyarak — the  man  was  dan- 
gerous. "Kreeseek,  you  have  spoken  to  him 
once,  you  speak  again;  there's  no  reason  why  the 
rest  of  us  should  go  mad." 

Kreeseek  was  unwilling,  but  Sakhawachiak 
pressed  for  an  answer.  They  huddled  together, 
all  the  naked  folk,  and  unconsciously  talked  aloud 
about  the  thing  that  Sakhawachiak  most  wanted 
to  know. —  "Well  now,  when  was  it  he  came? — 
it  was  before  the  great  storm,  just  about  eve- 
ning five  days  ago." 

So  now  he  knew  it,  and  they  huddled  together 
happily — nobody  could  hinder  them  from  talking 
to  each  other,  and  if  Sakhawachiak  was  in  the 
hut  of  course  he  could  listen — it  was  easier  to 
evade  the  stern  prohibition  than  they  had  imag- 
ined. 

"Five  days  ago,"  repeated  Sakhawachiak, 
counting  up ;  "I  left  Nuwuk  seven  days  behind  the 
others — if  I  can  keep  up  this  pace  I  must  soon 
catch  them — perhaps  at  Icy  Cape.  .  .  .  How 
were  they  driving?"  he  asked  the  naked  backs. 

"Ah,  how  was  it?"  the  Eskimos  began. 
Wasn't  she  sitting  on  top  of  the  load  when  they 
came?" —  "No,  she  was  walking  at  the  side" — 
this  was  another  voice  joining  in — "  and  she 
was  so  tired,  so  fearfully  tired,  she  fell  asleep 
as  soon  as  she  came  inside  the  iglo — " 

"And  left  me  to  mend  the  white  man's  clothes," 


Frozen  Justice        129 

interposed  one  of  the  women.  uShe  slept  so 
soundly  that  we  could  scarcely  wake  her  when  the 
food  was  ready — and  then  she  screamed  when  I 
touched  her." 

"She  screamed  in  the  night  too,"  the  backs 
continued  the  conversation  among  themselves — 
"and  next  morning  she  wanted  to  be  off  long 
before  the  sledge  was  ready." 

Sakhawachiak  listened  with  interest.  "How 
did  Joe  treat  her?"  he  muttered  half  aloud,  while 
the  Eskimos  listened  to  hear  what  was  coming 
next. 

"Yes,  how  did  Joe  treat  her?"  asked  one  of 
the  men,  and  the  women  hastened  to  answer. 
"Oh,  he  was  kind  enough  to  her  and  did  her 
work  as  well  as  his  own — she  couldn't  do  any- 
thing." 

"How  many  dogs  were  there  in  the  sledge?" 
Sakhawachiak  asked  into  the  air. 

"How  many  dogs  had  Joe?"  repeated  the  man 
who  was  leading  this  curious  conversation,  and 
two  or  three  of  his  housemates  answered:  "He 
had  eleven  fine,  strong  dogs;  and  he  wanted  them 
too — the  load  was  heavy." 

"Then  he  could  not  drive  very  fast?"  Sakha- 
wachiack  continued  his  conversation  with  the 
backs. 

"Fast?  well  .  .  .  how  fast  did  he  drive?" 
one  of  the  men  asked  the  other  Eskimos. 


130        Frozen  Justice 

"We  don't  know,"  was  the  answer;  "he  was 
driving  slowly  when  he  got  here;  the  dogs  were 
tired.  But  Kreepok  went  with  him  from  here  to 
help  with  the  sledge,  so  he  must  have  driven 
faster  to  Icy  Cape." 

"So  Kreepok  went  with  him,"  muttered  Sak- 
hawachiak  thoughtfully,  and  the  conversation 
died  away.  He  had  found  out  what  he  wanted  to 
know;  but  after  a  while  he  began  again:  "I 
wonder  whether  I  can  get  dogs  here — and  a 
sledge?" 

"Can  he  get  dogs  and  a  sledge?"  the  question 
was  repeated  at  random  among  the  crowd  of 
Eskimos — and  for  a  long  time  there  was  silence. 
"I  have  none,"  answered  one.  "Nor  I,"  another 
hastened  to  add.  "No,  he  can't  have  any  dogs 
and  sledge,"  answered  the  chorus,  and  again 
there  was  silence. 

For  a  long  time  there  was  not  a  sound  to  be 
heard  but  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  Eskimos. 
"I  am  going  to  sleep,"  Sakhawachiak  broke  the 
silence.  "I  shall  lie  here  by  the  door,  and  to- 
morrow morning  I  shall  go  on.  But  don't  dare 
to  disturb  me  tonight — you  are  not  to  believe  the 
white  men  and  obey  them — they  are  liars.  I  am 
not  mad,  but  I  am  going  to  kill  Black  Joe  and 
Igluruk;  that  is  my  right,  that  doesn't  concern 
you.  But  if  you  hinder  me,  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  you." 


Frozen  Justice        131 

Nobody  answered  that,  nor  was  answer 
needed,  and  soon  they  were  all  asleep  in  the  little 
iglo — the  travel-worn  Sakhawachiak  by  the  door, 
the  others  sitting  with  their  backs  turned  to  the 
dangerous  man — only  the  worn-out  old  woman 
was  awake,  mending  Sakhawachiak's  clothes  with 
hurried  stitches  and  getting  ready  his  food  for  the 
morning. 

His  heart  was  bitter  within  him  when  he  re- 
sumed the  pursuit,  and  his  hatred  of  the  white 
man  increased  as  he  went  along  the  coast,  a  lonely 
man,  without  sledge  or  dogs,  with  only  a  little 
food  on  his  back,  and  his  rifle.  He  carried  his 
spear  in  his  hand  and  used  it  as  a  staff  while  he 
toiled  onward  along  the  shore  towards  Icy  Cape. 

Two  days  later  he  came  upon  sledge-tracks. 
He  examined  them  carefully:  two  sharp  runners 
had  cut  deep  marks  in  the  snow  and  beside  them 
he  saw  the  footprints  of  two  men,  who  had  ap- 
parently been  working  hard — the  toes  were  dug 
deep  into  the  snow  at  each  step — and  he  smiled. 
A  heavy  load,  he  thought — they're  working  hard, 
those  two,  and  getting  on  slowly;  I  shall  soon 
catch  them.  And  he  continued  on  his  way,  half 
walking,  half  running,  keeping  between  the  sharp 
tracks  which  encouraged  him  to  hurry  on — per- 
haps I  shall  catch  them  tomorrow,  perhaps  the 
next  day — and  then  I  can  turn  back. 

He   gave   a  start  a   little   farther   along  the 


132        Frozen  Justice 

trail.  Here  they  halted,  he  muttered — and  here 
— he  noticed  a  third  set  of  footprints — here 
Igluruk  got  off.  He  examined  the  tracks  closely 
— yes,  that  was  Igluruk,  and  she  had  been  cold, 
she  had  run  up  and  down  to  warm  herself — so  the 
white  man  did  not  ill-treat  her  or  make  her 
work.  But  oh,  Igluruk,  how  could  you  leave  me 
and  go  over  to  the  whites?  You  used  always  to 
be  well  off,  but  now  .  .  .  and  he  sat  down, 
this  lonely,  forsaken  man,  forgot  his  persecution 
and  his  hate,  and  thought  only  of  his  vanished 
peace,  of  the  many  happy  years  at  Nuwuk  before 
the  whites  had  settled  there.  Curse  the  white 
men!  they  had  destroyed  everything;  the  country 
was  no  longer  the  same,  they  brought  in  whisky 
and  disease,  want  and  misery  .  .  .  and  with  an 
outburst  of  hatred  he  sprang  up  and  ran  along  the 
trail,  like  a  beast  of  prey  that  has  just  scented 
its  quarry. 

The  coast  he  followed  was  uninhabited,  but  low 
and  flat  as  at  Nuwuk;  it  was  often  hard  to  de- 
cide whether  he  was  on  land  or  ice.  But  this 
did  not  matter  to  him;  he  trotted  on;  the  weather 
was  fine,  the  snow  hard,  he  made  good  progress 
and  hoped  soon  to  have  a  sight  of  the  fugitives. 

At  night  he  dug  himself  into  the  snow  and 
lay  warm  and  comfortable;  but  next  morning  he 
was  away  again — his  hate  gave  him  neither  rest 
nor  peace. 


Frozen  Justice        133 

And  so  he  came  to  Icy  Cape  .  .  .  but  the 
settlement  is  a  large  one,  many  Eskimos  live 
there  and  they  travel  far  afield;  several  of  them 
had  seen  him  and  had  driven  home  with  the  news 
— "Sakhawachiak  is  coming!" 

He  was  expected,  and  the  white  men  had  laid 
their  plans  well.  The  madman's  coming — was 
the  cry  over  the  whole  settlement — keep  him 
away  from  your  iglos,  don't  look  at  him;  remem- 
ber, if  we  talk  to  him  we  shall  go  mad.  What 
does  he  want?  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk  left  yester- 
day— let  him  go  on,  we  don't  want  him  here! — 
Thus  spoke  all  the  skin-clad  folk,  but  they  could 
not  help  admiring  the  endurance  he  had  shown  in 
coming  all  the  way  from  Nuwuk  without  sledge  or 
dogs,  with  only  the  food  on  his  back;  and  they 
collected  in  groups  to  watch  the  lonely  man  ad- 
vancing over  the  ice  from  the  north.  In  spite  of 
all  they  felt  almost  proud  of  him,  the  great 
traveller,  their  own  countryman — but  the  man 
was  mad,  the  whites  had  said  so,  and  had  fur- 
ther outlawed  him  by  forbidding  the  natives  to 
have  anything  whatever  to  do  with  him.  The 
prohibition  would  be  observed,  that  was  sure 
enough,  for  the  white  men  had  threatened  any 
one  who  helped  him  with  perpetual  persecution: 
never  again  would  he  be  able  to  buy  flour  or 
treacle,  coffee  or  tea,  certainly  not  tobacco.  And 
not  only  would  the  man  who  helped  Sakhawachiak 


134        Frozen  Justice 

be  hit  by  the  white  men's  persecution — his  whole 
family  would  suffer,  father  and  mother,  wife  and 
children,  all  who  were  related  to  him  would  be 
ostracized. 

Such  precautions  had  the  white  men  taken ;  they 
knew  that  every  man  and  woman  in  the  settlement 
would  keep  an  eye  on  their  relations,  lest  they 
themselves  should  innocently  be  involved  in  the 
threatened  punishment. 

But  Sakhawachiak  was  coming  nearer;  he 
saw  the  disturbance  caused  by  his  approach,  and 
it  pained  him;  but  he  grasped  his  rifle  tighter — 
could  Black  Joe  be  there  still? 

The  three  whites  met  him  on  the  shore  and 
barred  his  way,  each  with  a  rifle  in  his  hand. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Tom,  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something,  when  Sakhawachiak  halted  near 
them. 

"Sakhawachiak,"  he  answered;  "from  Nuwuk. 
I've  come  to  look  for  Black  Joe  and  my  woman — 
Igluruk." 

"They're  not  here,"  answered  Tom;  "they've 
been  gone  a  long  time.  Turn  back,  man;  you'll 
never  reach  them." 

"When  did  they  leave?"  asked  Sakhawachiak. 

"I  said,  a  long  time  ago  and  you'll  never  reach 
them.  Black  Joe  is  somewhere  down  by  Point 
Hope — give  it  up,  you'll  never  overtake  him." 

They  looked  at  him  and  understood  Joe's  ter- 


Frozen  Justice        135 

ror.  His  eyes  shone  with  an  evil  and  deter- 
mined look.  "Look  here,"  Sakhawachiak  ob- 
jected, "it  can't  be  long  since  they  left  here;  I 
have  a  pretty  good  idea  as  to  that.  More  than 
three  days  it  can't  be,  and  if  they  hadn't  been 
helped  by  white  men  they'd  have  been  dead  long 
ago.  You  may  as  well  tell  me;  I'm  not  going 
to  give  up  the  pursuit,  even  if  it's  a  week  since 
they  left  here.  I  shall  keep  on  till  I  find  them — 
they  shan't  fool  me  again!" 

He  made  as  though  he  would  pass  the  white 
men,  but  they  barred  his  way.  "You're  not 
coming  into  the  settlement.  We  don't  mean  you 
any  harm;  this  here's  Joe's  affair — but  we're  not 
going  to  help  you,  you  won't  find  out  anything 
from  us.  If  you  want  to  go  on — why,  go  on; 
but  for  your  own  sake  we  advise  you  to  turn  and 
go  back  to  Nuwuk.  If  you  do  that  you  shall 
have  dogs  and  a  sledge  and  as  much  grub  as  you 
want — but  not  if  you  go  south." 

Sakhawachiak  knew  that  the  white  men  kept 
their  word  when  they  threatened — he  had  learnt 
that  long  ago.  He  sat  down  on  a  piece  of  ice  and 
thought.  .  .  .  Should  he  shoot  them,  these  cursed 
whites?  should  he  try  to  force  his  way  in  or 
should  he  turn  aside? 

His  common  sense  said  turn  aside.  He  might 
shoot  one  white  man,  perhaps  two,  but  the  mo- 
ment he  raised  his  rifle  the  white  men  would 


136        Frozen  Justice 

shoot  him — and  then  Joe  would  go  scot-free. 
No,  it  was  Joe  he  had  to  deal  with,  not  these;  it 
was  not  their  fault  that  Joe  came  here,  nor  that 
he  took  Igluruk. 

The  white  men  gave  him  time  to  consider — 
after  all  it  might  he  an  awkward  business  killing  a 
man,  even  if  he  was  only  an  Eskimo.  They 
were  the  only  whites  for  many,  many  miles 
around,  and  even  if  they  were  now  on  top  and  had 
the  natives  scared  of  Sakhawachiak,  there  might 
come  a  day  when  they  were  on  some  sledge  journey 
and  alone  with  the  natives.  And  you  could  never 
tell  what  the  Eskimos  had  in  their  heads,  they 
might  remember  Sakhawachiak  if  he  had  been 
killed,  and  their  fear  of  him  might  turn  into 
sympathy — no,  it  would  be  far  better  if  he  went 
away  quietly — they  had  made  up  their  minds 
about  that  long  ago. 

"Well,  Sakhawachiak,"  said  Tom  at  length; 
"are  you  going  to  turn  back?" 

He  still  sat  motionless  and  only  shook  his 
head.  "I  am  hungry;  give  me  food  and  I'll  go 
on  at  once." 

But  that  they  would  not  do,  and  at  last  he  got 
up.  "All  right  then,  as  you  please.  But  I  shall 
have  more  time  when  once  Joe's  dead — and  then 
I'll  come  back.  You're  on  top  now,  and  I  won't 
give  up  chasing  Black  Joe — but  later  on  .  .  .    !" 

"Vat  den?"  snapped  Fritz — "p'raps  you  kill 


Frozen  Justice        137 

us  too,  eh?  I  tink  it's  best  we  shoot  him  straight 
away — "  and  he  began  to  finger  his  rifle.  But 
Sakhawachiak  was  ready;  he  swung  round  with 
his  rifle  at  his  hip,  and  Fritz  calmed  down  again 
— couldn't  tell  which  would  get  his  shot  in  first. 

Without  saying  a  word  more  to  the  three 
Sakhawachiak  went  off.  He  did  not  turn  round 
again,  and  was  lost  to  sight  among  the  ice- 
hummocks  to  the  south.  But  the  same  night  he 
came  back  while  the  whole  settlement  was  asleep; 
knife  in  hand  he  crawled  into  a  hut  and  roused 
the  occupants:  "Give  me  food — give  me  dogs, 
or  I'll  knife  you." 

That  was  language  the  natives  understood,  and 
they  could  read  in  his  eyes  that  it  was  no  empty 
threat;  so  he  got  food,  dogs  and  a  sledge — and 
then  the  pursuit  of  Black  Joe  began  again:  he 
lashed  the  dogs  and  drove  them  on,  away  from  Icy 
Cape,  down  the  coast  after  his  enemy. 

He  drove  for  a  couple  of  days  and  all  went 
well,  if  not  so  rapidly  as  he  had  hoped;  but  then 
came  a  storm — howling  and  crashing  it  tore 
across  the  country  from  the  southward,  driving 
every  living  thing  to  seek  shelter.  The  fox  had 
still  under  the  lee  of  an  ice-block  and  let  itself  be 
snowed  under — but  Sakhawachiak  kept  on;  he  bid 
long  since  crept  into  its  hole,  and  the  bear  lay 
defiance  to  the  wind  and  drove  his  dogs  forward 
in  the  teeth  of  the  cutting  snowstorm.     Their 


138        Frozen  Justice 

eyes  were  blinded  by  the  snow,  great  cakes  of  ice 
and  snow  covered  their  heads,  but  still  he  urged 
them  on,  encouraging  them  with  shouts  and  using 
his  whip — on  he  must  go,  on  after  his  enemy — 
and  the  dogs  had  to  suffer  for  the  white  man's 
sins. 

He  himself  was  in  bad  case,  but  took  no  notice 
of  the  snow  that  filled  his  eyes  nor  of  his  big 
frostbites;  he  leaned  forward  against  the  wind, 
bent  his  head  low  and  kept  on,  kept  on  until  the 
dogs  threw  themselves  into  the  snow  and  refused 
to  go  any  farther. 

Then  he  dug  himself  into  the  snow  to  wait  for 
better  weather.  He  had  no  fire  to  cook  his  food, 
so  he  ate  it  raw  and  then  fell  asleep,  slept  calmly 
and  securely,  yet  like  the  beasts  of  the  field — with 
his  senses  awake,  ready  to  spring  up  and  begin 
again  as  soon  as  the  wind  abated. 

He  was  held  up  a  long  time,  but  at  last  he 
was  able  to  start;  and,  although  the  gale  howled 
and  the  snow  whirled  high,  the  weather  had 
cleared  just  enough  for  him  to  drive  the  dogs 
forward  against  the  driving  snow,  while  he  him- 
self, bent  double,  fighting  the  wind,  walked  beside 
the  sledge — soon  he  must  surely  catch  the  run- 
aways. 

The  weather  improved  and  day  after  day  he 
drove  southward  along  a  coast  so  barren  and 
forsaken  that  its  bleak  cheerlessness  depressed 


Frozen  Justice        139 

even  him.  But  he  was  on  the  track  of  the  fugi- 
tives and  passed  place  after  place  where  Igluruk 
and  Black  Joe  had  camped  or  rested — he  was 
overhauling  them,  quickly  too,  the  trail  was  get- 
ting fresher.  He  whipped  up  the  dogs  and  drove 
on,  with  his  rifle  lying  beside  him  on  the  sledge, 
ready  for  him  to  snatch  it  up  and  shoot  at  sight. 

The  country  was  getting  higher.  Steep  moun- 
tains rose  almost  perpendicularly  from  the  surface 
of  the  ice,  dark  and  threatening,  too  steep  even 
for  the  snow  to  lodge  on  their  sheer  sides.  The 
wind  came  hurtling  down  from  the  moun- 
tains in  furious  gusts,  but  Sakhawachiak  was 
no  longer  to  be  stopped  and  disregarded  the 
violent  squalls — he  whipped  up  his  dogs  and 
drove  close  in  under  the  cliff,  along  the  smooth 
ice  at  its  foot.  His  eyes  never  moved  from  the  ice 
right  ahead;  every  instant  he  expected  to  see  a 
sledge  in  the  distance,  for  now  he  knew  that 
the  fugitives  were  within  his  reach — he  had  just 
passed  the  last  of  Joe's  camps,  and  they  had 
left  it  quite  recently,  the  ashes  of  the  wood  fire 
were  still  warm. 

Now  he  had  them — at  the  most  it  could  only  be 
a  few  hours  before  his  vengeance  was  accom- 
plished. Never  would  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk 
reach  Point  Hope — their  hope. 

The  warm  ashes  had  given  Sakhawachiak  new 
strength,  new  life,  which  he  tried  to  pass  on  to 


140        Frozen  Justice 

his  dogs;  he  stopped  a  while  to  give  them  a  feed 
from  his  diminished  store — there  was  no  need  to 
save  now — and  after  a  rest  he  drove  the  dogs 
on  again.  He  ran  by  the  side  of  the  sledge, 
swinging  his  whip  over  the  whimpering  animals— 
but  the  rest  had  done  them  good,  the  food  too; 
and  though  their  feet  were  tender  and  they  were 
worn-out  and  half-starved,  they  still  ran  on, 
driven  by  the  will  of  a  strong  and  determined 
man. 

The  outmost  point,  Cape  Lisbourne,  now  came 
in  sight.  Lofty,  dark  and  threatening  it  rose 
above  the  flat  surface  of  the  white  ice,  ever 
sombre,  but  now  doubly  so,  as  it  lay  before  Sak- 
hawachiak's  eyes  sharply  outlined  against  the 
light  spring  sky. 

Huge  avalanches  thundered  down  the  steep 
cliffs  and  struck  the  ice  with  a  thousand  tons' 
force — smashed  it,  and  sent  small  floes  drifting 
away  to  leeward  over  the  black,  stormswept 
sea,  out  to  the  pack-ice  a  mile  away. 

The  water  was  close  to  Sakhawachiak,  deep 
black  it  looked;  he  saw  it  and  the  floes  drifting 
off.  He  knew  the  danger  of  being  carried  out 
to  sea  on  drifting  ice,  and  knew  it  was  certain 
death  to  him  if  that  happened — but  he  paid  no 
attention  to  it,  never  gave  it  a  thought — his 
brain  contained  but  one  idea — forward,  stick  to 
it,  faster,  faster  yet! 


Frozen  Justice        141 

The  whip  swished  over  the  dogs,  and  lean- 
ing forward  he  ran  along  the  foot  of  the  cliffs 
— then  he  straightened  up  with  a  jerk — stopped 
so  suddenly  that  he  slid  on  over  the  ice — what 
was  that? — that  dark  spot  over  there  on  the  ice, 
wasn't  it  a  sledge — the  sledge? 

Standing  stock  still  he  gazed  at  the  black  dot 
that  had  come  in  sight  off  a  promontory,  almost 
by  Cape  Lisbourne.  For  some  moments  he 
stood  there  in  suspense,  strong  and  erect,  letting 
the  wind  buffet  and  tear  at  his  body,  immovable 
save  for  his  waving  hair,  which  he  held  back 
with  his  hand  so  as  to  see  better. 

The  dogs  lay  in  front  of  the  sledge,  huddled 
together  and  keeping  each  other  warm,  with- 
out a  movement,  without  a  sound — nothing  was 
to  be  heard  but  the  whistling  of  the  wind.  Then 
Sakhawachiak  drew  a  deep  breath,  seized  his 
rifle  from  the  sledge,  bent  forward  and  started 
off  with  a  bound.  He  left  the  sledge  where  it 
was  and  had  no  ears  for  the  whining  of  the  dogs 
— uneasy  at  being  alone.  He  ran — for  the  dark 
speck  in  front  of  him  was  moving;  it  was  a  sledge, 
and  when  the  squalls  had  spent  their  force  and 
the  clouds  of  flying  snow  subsided,  he  saw  two 
people  beside  the  sledge — Igluruk  and  Black  Joe. 

He  was  overtaking  them  rapidly — still  unseen; 
but  suddenly  one  of  the  two  figures  beside  the 
sledge  stopped  and  turned  round — only  to  rest, 


142        Frozen  Justice 

only  to  recover  breath,  suspecting  nothing  wrong. 

But  what  he  saw  shook  him  up  badly. 

Sakhawachiak  could  actually  see  the  shudder 
that  went  through  him  at  the  sight  he  had  long 
dreaded  but  hoped  never  to  see — a  man  running 
to  track  him  down! 

He  spun  round  like  a  flash — the  man  yonder 
— and  ran.  Sakhawachiak  saw  him  swing  his 
arm  up  and  down,  time  after  time,  quickly. 
The  flying  man — or  was  it  Igluruk? — had  caught 
a  glimpse  of  death  in  the  brief  instant  he  looked 
back,  and  whipped  up  his  dogs  like  a  madman, 
hoping  once  more  to  escape  the  terrible  Thing 
that  was  approaching. 

Sakhawachiak  was  overhauling  the  sledge,  soon 
he  would  be  up  to  it.  But  the  fugitives  were 
alive  to  the  danger  and  stopped  suddenly  to  throw 
out  their  load  in  feverish  haste — then  on  again, 
on,  on,  lashing  the  dogs — their  lives  were  at 
stake. 

The  fugitives  had  not  given  themselves  time  to 
empty  the  sledge  altogether  and  it  was  still  too 
heavy;  they  dared  not  stop  again,  but  one  of  them 
jumped  on  to  the  sledge  and  threw  the  rest  of  the 
load  out  to  right  and  left,  while  the  other  ran 
beside  it  and  lashed  the  dogs.  That  did  some 
good — the  lightened  sledge  flew  over  the  ice 
as  fast  as  the  dogs  could  run,  and  now  Sakhawa- 
chiak was  no  longer  gaining  on   them — but  he 


Frozen  Justice       143 

kept  cool,  for  he.  knew  that  nobody  could  keep  up 
that  pace,  especially  when  one  of  the  two  was  a 
white. 

Presently  Sakhawachiak  reached  a  heap  of 
whalebone,  furs  and  skins — everything  that 
Black  Joe  had  brought  with  him  from  Nuwuk 
lay  scattered  over  the  ice,  but  Sakhawachiak  did 
not  stop,  he  only  smiled  maliciously  and  ran  on  as 
a  man  only  runs  when  the  goal  is  in  sight.  But 
the  empty  sledge  drove  too  quickly;  it  flew  on, 
drawn  by  its  eleven  dogs  lashed  to  fury  by  the 
mad  terror  of  a  man  and  a  woman — he  was  no 
longer  gaining  on  it. 

Then  came  an  uncanny  rumbling,  whistling  and 
roaring  from  the  mountains  and  a  terrific  squall 
burst  down  the  slopes  with  a  noise  like  thunder, 
tearing  out  great  stones  as  it  went.  They  fell, 
crashed  against  other  rocks  on  the  cliff,  sprang 
out  as  though  cast  by  invisible  hands,  fell  on  the 
ice  with  a  crash — and  then  hell  broke  loose. 
Sakhawachiak  was  caught  by  the  sudden  gust, 
which  whirled  the  snow  into  the  air  around  him — 
the  fleeing  sledge  vanished  in  clouds  of  snow — 
and  he  himself  was  lifted  up,  whirled  round  and 
thrown  down  on  the  ice,  and  sent  spinning  away 
towards  the  open  sea. 

In  vain  he  tried  to  catch  hold  of  some  uneven- 
ness  with  his  hands,  but  he  went  spinning,  spin- 
ning on  towards  the  water,  and  death. 


144        Frozen  Justice 

He  pressed  his  body  flat  against  the  ice,  to  stop 
himself  if  possible,  but  slid  on  still  .  .  .  then 
he  collided  with  an  ice-block  and  lay  still,  just 
his  own  length  from  the  water,  which  roared  and 
seethed  against  the  newly  broken  edge  of  the  ice. 

Sakhawachiak  took  a  few  moments  to  collect 
himself  before  crawling  back  towards  land,  in  the 
teeth  of  the  wind  which  still  beat  down  over  the 
mountains — and  then  discovered  that  his  rifle 
was  gone,  lost  while  he  was  fighting  for  life 
against  the  wind. 

So  he  had  to  return  to  the  open  water,  and 
after  some  searching  he  found  his  rifle.  This 
took  time,  but  at  any  rate  he  had  recovered  the 
instrument  of  vengeance,  and  with  the  rifle  slung 
on  his  back  he  crawled  in  again  towards  the  land 
and  safety. 

The  squall  had  spent  its  rage.  It  still  roared 
among  the  mountains,  and  the  ice  wailed  and 
sighed  like  a  living  creature  beneath  the  pressure 
of  the  gale — but  then  it  passed  on,  out  to  sea,  to 
places  where  it  could  do  no  harm.  The  weather 
cleared,  the  driving  snow  sank  slowly  down 
— but  rose  again  now  and  then  when  a  lighter  gust 
came  along — then  they  too  died  away  and  all  was 
still.  The  tops  of  hummocks  rose  above  the 
driven  snow,  like  islands  in  a  chalk-white  sea; 
then  the  white  fell  away,  disappeared,  and  the 


Frozen  Justice        145 

outlines  of  the  ice  stood  out  clear  and  sharp — and 
there,  there  was  the  sledge! 

It  had  also  been  hit  by  the  squall,  but  not  so 
hard  as  Sakhawachiak.  It  had  certainly  skidded 
a  little  out  of  its  course,  but  it  was  easier  for 
the  dogs  to  get  foothold  than  for  men  and  they 
had  pulled  the  sledge  up  before  it  reached  the 
open  water.  It  had  already  started  again — 
westward,  in  the  direction  of  Cape  Lisbourne — 
and  two  people  were  lashing  the  dogs  on. 

Squall  followed  squall,  but  now  they  did  not 
take  Sakhawachiak  by  surprise;  he  stood  his 
ground,  or  threw  himself  down  on  hearing  the 
gusts  among  the  mountains — and  he  was  gaining 
on  the  fugitives;  the  dogs  could  no  longer  keep 
up  the  furious  pace. 

Sakhawachiak  ran — his  heart  hammered  as 
if  it  would  burst,  his  ears  sang  and  his  eyes  were 
clouded,  but  he  ran — ran  as  he  had  never  run 
before,  driven  on  by  his  hate,  by  his  indomitable 
will  and  by  his  thirst  for  revenge — but  now  4ie 
was  so  near  that  he  could  plainly  hear  the  fugi- 
tives' hoarse  shouts  to  their  dogs  to  run,  run, 
run  faster  still. 

The  ice  was  broken  around  Cape  Lisbourne, 
right  in  to  the  land,  but  stranded  ice  kept  the 
pieces  together,  though  there  were  often  wide 
cracks  between  the  separate  floes.     The  sledge 


146        Frozen  Justice 

flew  across,  the  fugitives  with  it,  and  Sakhawa- 
chiak  sprang  after.  Rapidly  they  were  nearing 
Cape  Lisbourne,  in  a  few  minutes  the  sledge 
would  be  far  enough  on  to  round  the  point — 
Sakhawachiak  was  not  a  thousand  yards  from  it. 

Then  another  squall  burst;  it  rumbled  down 
the  mountainsides  and  the  ice-floes  rocked  under 
the  pressure  of  the  wind,  but  both  the  sledge 
and  Sakhawachiak  were  far  enough  under  the  lee 
of  the  land  to  escape  the  full  force  of  the  blast — 
the  sledge  dashed  on  and  Sakhawachiak  after  it, 
drawing  steadily  nearer. 

Then  the  sledge  halted.  The  dogs  collected 
in  a  bunch  and  refused  to  jump  a  wide  lane  which 
had  evidently  just  opened — the  work  of  the  last 
squall. 

It  was  the  end  of  the  chase — and  Sakhawachiak 
slackened  his  pace  to  gather  strength  for  the 
final  bout — but  still  he  rapidly  drew  near  to  the 
two,  who  were  running  up  and  down  on  the  edge 
of  the  open  water  looking  for  the  narrowest 
place. 

Now  he  was  near  enough  to  distinguish  both 
their  faces:  Joe's  pale  as  a  corpse,  Igluruk's  dis- 
torted by  fear — there  was  not  more  than  three 
hundred  yards  between  them.  Sakhawachiak 
dropped  into  a  walk — there  was  no  need  to  run 
now  and  he  had  another  use  for  his  strength;  he 
enjoyed    torturing    them,    playing    with    them, 


Frozen  Justice        147 

watching  their  mad  terror.  He  had  been  tor- 
tured, he  had  suffered,  but  now  he  was  as  calm 
and  cool  as  at  Nuwuk  when  he  was  hunting  bear 
or  seal  and  had  his  game  where  he  wanted  it  to 
be — only  one  last  thing  remained — the  easiest 
of  all — to  make  these  running,  shrieking,  terror- 
stricken  creatures  quiet  for  ever. 

Then  Igluruk  jumped — as  well  drown  as  be 
shot.  But  at  the  same  instant  Sakhawachiak  sank 
on  his  knee  with  his  rifle  to  his  cheek — his  finger 
on  the  trigger  and  Black  Joe  on  the  sights — he 
should  not  fool  him  this  time. 

Like  a  flash  the  regret  struck  Sakhawachiak's 
brain,  that  Joe  after  all  should  get  off  with  shoot- 
ing— whereas  he  had  gloated  on  the  idea  of 
squeezing  the  life  out  of  him  with  his  hands — 
and  then  the  rifle  cracked.  The  echo  caught  up 
the  report  and  tossed  it  back,  shot  upon  shot; 
the  smoke  cleared  away  and  Sakhawachiak  leapt 
up  with  a  hoarse  cry  ...  he  had  trusted  to  the 
white  men's  weapon,  but  had  been  fooled  by  that 
as  by  everything  else  white.  The  bullet  struck 
just  behind  Joe — who  jumped,  jumped  for  dear 
life  and  landed  on  the  other  side,  driven  to  it 
by  Sakhawachiak's  shot. 

And  then  they  ran,  those  two,  as  fast  as  they 
could,  along  the  ice-foot  behind  Cape  Lisbourne, 
towards  the  south,  towards  Point  Hope, 
their      hope      and      deliverance;      for      when 


148        Frozen  Justice 

Sakhawachiak  reached  the  crack  that  had 
stopped  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk  it  had  grown  so 
wide  that  to  jump  it  was  impossible.  The  fugi- 
tives were  saved  and  their  pursuer  was  adrift  on 
the  floating  ice,  whence  he  sent  bullet  after  bullet 
at  random  after  the  two  who  had  hurt  him  so 
sorely.  But  the  range  was  increasing,  his  bul- 
lets fell  short — they  ran  on,  those  two  on  the 
firm  ice-foot,  unharmed,  saved.  And  he,  Sakha- 
wachiak was  drifting  away  from  land — out  to 
sea. 


VIII 

AS  long  as  Sakhawachiak  could  see  the  fu- 
gitives he  sat  quite  still  on  the  ice  look- 
ing after  them.  He  did  not  feel  the 
cold,  nor  recked  of  the  open  water,  paralysed  as 
he  was  by  the  knowledge  that  they  had  escaped 
him.  He  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts,  but  could 
not;  they  came  slowly,  heavily  and  with  difficulty 
— it  was  all  so  incomprehensible. 

A  short  while  ago  he  had  been  so  certain  of 
catching  them,  the  two  who  had  stolen  his  peace 
and  happiness — he  had  struggled  so  hard,  had 
borne  so  much  in  order  to  reach  them,  and  then 
— just  as  he  had  believed  himself  at  the  goal,  he 
was  farther  from  it  than  ever. 

A  gust  of  wind  was  the  cause.  Had  it  not 
come  just  then,  he  would  now  have  satisfied  his 
thirst  for  revenge — for  blood;  and  Black  Joe 
and  Igluruk  would  now  be  lying  corpses  at  his 
feet. 

He  reviewed  in  thought  his  journey,  beginning 
from  the  Kugerakuk,  and  reflected  how  near  he 
had  been  several  times  to  catching  the  fugitives; 
but  it  was  as  though  some  favouring  spirit  held 

149 


150        Frozen  Justice 

its  hand  over  them;  every  one  helped  them,  al- 
though they  were  guilty  of  so  much  evil.  And 
his  thoughts  went  still  farther  back — to  the  first 
time  he  had  seen  the  two  white  men  on  the  beach 
at  Nuwuk — yes,  and  Mr.  Hastings,  the  man  who 
talked  about  God,  the  white  men's  God,  who  was 
so  much  better  than  all  that  the  Eskimos  had 
believed  in  before.  What  was  it  now  that  Has- 
tings used  to  tell  them  about  this  God?  .  .  . 
He  pondered — oh  yes,  God  protected  the  good, 
the  missionary  had  said,  and  punished  the  evil. 
But  all  that  was  nothing  but  words — in  fact,  it 
was  certainly  untrue;  since  now,  when  the  God 
was  put  to  the  proof,  he  had  failed  and  had 
helped  the  wicked.  For  even  in  the  eyes  of  the 
white  God  they  must  be  wicked — those  two,  who 
had  done  all  that  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk  had 
done — but  still  he  helped  them  in  every  way, 
and  had  thrown  obstacles  in  the  path  of  him, 
Sakhawachiak,  who  only  desired  to  avenge  the 
evil. 

That  was  not  right  of  the  white  men's  God; 
he  could  not  possibly  be  so  just  as  Mr.  Hastings 
had  said,  and  was  assuredly  no  use  when  all 
was  said  and  done.  Or  else  he  was  partial — 
but  that  was  not  so  very  strange,  all  the  whites 
helped  each  other,  so  why  should  their  God  be 
any  better? — of  course  he  helped  the  white 
man.  .  .  .  No,  he  ought  never  to  have  listened 


Frozen  Justice        151 

to  Hastings'  words — the  God  he  talked  about 
could  never  be  good  to  the  natives. 

Shakawachiak  clenched  his  fists  in  impotent 
fury.  "Up  there  he  sits,"  he  burst  out,  stretch- 
ing his  arms  towards  the  sky;  Hastings  says  so 
— and  now  he  laughs  at  me  because  I  believed 
I  could  revenge  myself  on  a  white  man.  He  is 
a  bad  God  for  us,  but  perhaps  good  enough  for 
the  whites;  let  them  keep  him —  I'll  never  be- 
lieve in  him  again,  I'll  never  hear  of  him  again, 
his  name  shall  never  be  spoken  when  I  am  pres- 
ent." 

Sakhawachiak  shook  off  his  thoughts,  they 
were  idle,  and  more  vital  things  claimed  his  at- 
tention; he  stood  up  to  see  the  extent  of  his 
danger. 

The  ice-floe  on  which  he  was  adrift  was  quite 
small,  a  hundred  feet  or  so  in  diameter,  no  more; 
and  on  this  bit  of  ice  he  was  rapidly  sailing 
away  from  land.  Black  wavelets  played  around 
it  and  lapped  its  edges,  greedy  to  snatch  the  prey 
which  their  ally,  the  wind,  had  brought  them. 

But  Sakhawachiak  was  not  minded  to  let  him- 
self be  taken  so  easily — he  moved  as  far  as  pos- 
sible from  the  edge  of  the  floe  and  looked  around 
— for  what? — he  himself  scarcely  knew.  It  was 
not  the  first  time  Eskimos  had  gone  adrift  on 
the  ice,  but  they  had  never  come  back  to  tell  what 
had    happened.     Some    of     them    perhaps    had 


152        Frozen  Justice 

reached  the  mysterious  land,  far  away  in  the 
north,  beyond  the  pack-ice — the  land  which  was 
warm  and  full  of  reindeer,  musk-ox  and  bears — 
the  land  where  there  was  said  to  be  boundless 
hospitality  and  food  in  plenty.  There  perhaps 
they  had  settled,  those  castaways — at  all  events 
they  never  returned  to  tell  the  tale. 

From  the  time  he  was  a  little  child  he  had 
heard  about  the  treacherous  ice,  which  would 
open  behind  a  venturesome  hunter,  cutting  him 
off  from  the  fixed  ice-foot,  so  that  he  could  not 
return  to  land.  His  father  and  all  the  grown-ups 
had  warned  him  against  the  ice  and  he  had  heard 
countless  stories  about  ice  drifting  out  to  sea, 
taking  with  it  one  or  more  hunters.  During  his 
whole  hunting  life  he  had  been  cautious — until 
now,  when  he  had  run  his  biggest  game  to  earth 
— he  had  forgotten  his  caution  just  as  he  was 
ready  to  strike  the  game  down — and  now  he  was 
drifting  out,  away  from  land,  alone,  without 
food,  to  die. 

He  looked  around.  There  was  water  all  round 
his  piece  of  ice,  black  and  ominous;  the  wind  was 
off  shore  and  drove  the  floe  farther  out,  towards 
the  pack-ice,  which  lay  a  little  to  leeward  of 
him.  But  that  offered  no  safety,  for  if  his  little 
floe  got  into  the  ice  it  would  be  caught  up  in  its 
witches'  dance  and  ground  smaller  and  smaller, 
while  huge  blocks  of  ice  would  crash  down  over 


Frozen  Justice        153 

its  edges;  beneath  their  weight  the  floe  would 
crack  up,  go  to  pieces,  diminish,  disappear — no, 
in  the  pack-ice  he  would  be  worse  off  than  he 
was  already. 

Suddenly  he  remembered  the  dogs  which  were 
harnessed  to  Joe's  sledge;  he  swung  round  in  a 
flash — where  were  they?  At  any  rate  he  could 
keep  body  and  soul  together  for  a  time  on  their 
flesh;  but  they  were  gone — they  had  swum  over 
to  the  fixed  ice  before  the  lane  had  grown  too 
wide,  and  the  hope  that  had  kindled  so  suddenly 
vanished  as  quickly  ...  he  was  alone,  alone  he 
would  remain,  and  in  a  few  days'  time  the  floe 
would  bear  upon  its  surface  a  motionless  bundle 
of  skins  containing  a  frozen  body — his,  Sakha- 
wachiak's. 

He  shuddered  for  a  moment:  it  is  always  hard 
to  think  of  death,  doubly  hard  when  one  must 
pass  into  it  through  days  of  agonizing  starvation. 
But  he  pulled  himself  together — often  and  often 
he  had  looked  death  in  the  face,  times  without 
number  it  had  stretched  out  its  arms  to  take 
him — but  hitherto  he  had  always  given  it  the 
slip  and  had  only  thought  about  its  summons 
after  the  danger  had  been  overcome.  Until  to- 
day he  had  met  death  fighting,  had  had  his  chance 
and  the  odds  had  not  been  unfair;  but  now — he 
was  drifting  helplessly  towards  it,  he  could  do 
nothing  to   avert  his   fate,   only  wait,   suffering 


154        Frozen  Justice 

hunger  and  thirst,  wait  an  intolerable  time,  for 
death,  which  was  sitting  somewhere  or  other 
among  the  ice-floes,  watching  him  with  dark, 
empty  sockets. 

He  walked  restlessly  up  and  down — still  keep- 
ing up  the  struggle  lest  he  should  freeze  to  death. 
There  was  no  snow  with  which  he  could  build  a 
hut,  or  a  wall  to  shelter  him  from  the  wind  that 
blew  icy-cold  from  the  dark,  sheer  cliffs  of  Cape 
Lisbourne. 

The  day  closed  in,  night  fell,  and  still  he  paced 
backwards  and  forwards.  But  nature  claimed 
her  right:  he  fell  asleep  and  did  not  wake  till  the 
sun  was  up.  He  leapt  to  his  feet,  would  have  con- 
tinued the  pursuit  as  he  had  done  so  many  times 
before,  but  stopped — ah  yes,  of  course,  he  was 
drifting  with  the  ice,  the  others  were  saved,  it 
was  he  who  was  going  to  his  death.  And 
Sakhawachiak  sat  down  disheartened,  drew  his 
legs  under  him,  and  with  both  hands  round  his 
ankles  and  his  head  resting  on  his  knees  remained 
immovable,  as  though  death  had  already  claimed 
its  prey. 

He  sat  for  a  long  time  looking  at  the  land — 
then  suddenly  woke  to  life — what  was  that? 
Cape  Lisbourne  now  lay  to  the  northward  of  him 
and  he  could  see  the  whole  coast  down  towards 
Point  Hope.  During  the  night,  while  he  slept, 
his  floe  had  got  into  a  south-going  current,  and  he 


Frozen  Justice        155 

was  drifting  slowly  and  quietly  along  the  coast. 

That  aroused  him.  He  was  once  more  travel- 
ling southward,  rather  more  slowly  than  before 
and  with  no  control  over  his  movements,  but  still 
in  the  right  direction;  and  there  was  the  chance 
that  his  floe  might  pass  so  close  to  the  shore  ice 
at  Point  Hope  that  he  could  jump  on  to  it.  As 
long  as  the  floe  kept  clear  of  the  pack-ice,  all  was 
not  lost. 

He  walked  up  and  down  his  floe,  and  each  time 
he  came  to  its  southernmost  end  he  stopped  and 
shaded  his  eyes  from  the  sun  while  his  keen  sight 
scanned  the  horizon — would  he  not  soon  see  the 
long,  low  sandy  promontory — Point  Hope? 

But  the  sun  sank  in  the  west  and  dipped  down 
into  the  sea;  its  rays  painted  the  ice  in  glorious 
colours,  pink  with  deep  shadows,  it  gave  life  to 
the  great  white  floes  and  set  them  in  relief;  and 
even  the  land  to  the  eastward,  the  high,  steep 
coast-line,  was  gilded  by  the  rays.  Every  uneven- 
ness,  every  ravine,  every  watercourse  showed  up 
plainly,  and  the  land,  which  before  had  looked  so 
grim  and  dark,  grew  bright  and  friendly. 

This  lonely  man  adrift  on  the  little  ice-floe, 
on  whom  death  had  set  its  mark,  stretched  his 
arms  towards  the  land — still  hanging  on  to  life 
and  longing  to  be  there,  where  life  was  possible. 
But  the  spark  in  the  west  went  out — the  colours 
vanished  from  ice  and  land,  and  everything  grew 


156        Frozen  Justice 

darker,  though  the  sky  still  glowed — one  ray- 
shot  across  it  like  an  arrow  of  fire;  it  lit  up  all  the 
little  clouds  that  hung  below  the  blue  of  the  sky, 
making  them  blush  deeper  and  deeper  under  the 
last  caress  of  day.  The  ray  of  sunlight  shone 
brighter,  shed  its  light  on  clouds  which  suddenly 
appeared  to  view  bathed  in  the  sun's  beams;  and 
then  the  last  glow  disappeared — everything  be- 
came dark,  only  black  and  white  remained,  and 
night  closed  in.  But  at  the  southern  end  of  the 
little  floe  stood  Sakhawachiak,  motionless  and 
still:  his  keen  eyes  searched  the  horizon  watch- 
ing for  Point  Hope,  and  he  gazed  anxiously  out 
into  the  waning  daylight. 

But  the  sandy  promontory  was  not  to  be  seen, 
and  with  a  sigh  Sakhawachiak  turned  away.  By 
the  changing  contours  of  the  land  he  could  tell 
he  was  drifting  south,  but  slowly,  mortally 
slowly,  especially  when  he  thought  of  those  two, 
who  had  long  since  found  a  refuge  with  one  of 
the  many  whites  living  at  Point  Hope. 

That  night  he  slept  again — but  a  disturbed 
sleep.  He  was  so  cold  that  his  limbs  grew  stiff, 
and  many  times  in  the  course  of  the  night  he  had 
to  get  up  and  stamp  up  and  down  the  ice-floe  to 
make  the  blood  circulate  faster  in  his  frozen 
body;  and  besides  that  he  was  hungry  and  thirsty. 
He  could  moisten  his  tongue  with  small  lumps  of 
ice  which  he  warmed  slightly  in  the  hollow  of  his 


Frozen  Justice        157 

hand  before  putting  them  into  his  mouth;  but 
that  was  a  small  relief  and  only  aroused  an  in- 
satiable craving  for  water,  for  a  rippling  brook 
beside  which  he  could  lie  and  drink  his  fill. 

When  the  sun  rose  in  the  east  its  rays  fell  on 
Sakhawachiak  walking  restlessly  up  and  down, 
up  and  down  the  ice-floe,  slowly,  like  an  old, 
worn-out  man. 

But  it  was  not  so  bad  as  that — yet;  he  walked 
slowly  on  purpose  to  save  his  strength  for  the 
final  bout,  which  could  only  be  won  if  he  retained 
his   full  powers. 

The  sun  rose  higher :  it  threw  its  light  over  land 
and  ice  and  made  the  distance  visible;  suddenly 
Sakhawachiak  was  brought  up  by  a  sight  that 
made  his  heart  beat  faster — there  lay  Point  Hope, 
clear  and  sharp,  and  the  floe  was  drifting  in  the 
open  coast  water  nearest  the  shore  ice. 

Sakhawachiak  sat  down  and  looked  at  the  point 
— he  could  have  reached  it  with  dogs  and  sledge, 
or  even  on  foot,  in  quite  a  short  time,  long  before 
the  sun  was  in  the  south.  But  he  was  drifting 
with  the  current  and  it  did  not  run  fast;  he  must 
curb  his  impatience  for — ay,  for  what?  Sakha- 
wachiak did  not  know  himself  what  he  would  do 
or  what  might  happen  when  he  came  nearer  to 
Point  Hope — but  one  chance  he  still  had,  if  only 
he  got  so  far. 

His  hunger  tormented  him  and  influenced  his 


158        Frozen  Justice 

mind  with  increasing  force.  Of  course  he  had 
not  yet  forgotten  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk,  he  still 
thought  of  his  revenge — but  even  as  he  sat  on  the 
ice  nursing  his  hate,  the  two  slipped  out  of  his 
thoughts,  driven  away  by  his  craving  for  food 
and  drink;  there  was  room  for  nothing  else  in  his 
brain — all  else  was  indifferent  if  only  he  could 
get  food. 

Instinctively  he  watched  all  round  and  slipped 
noiselessly  down  on  to  the  ice.  He  whistled  in 
soft,  enticing  tones,  for  out  in  the  water  was  a 
seal,  standing  upright  and  looking  at  him  with 
great  brown  eyes.  It  twitched  its  small  nostrils 
and  turned  its  head  from  side  to  side  in  order  to 
hear  better — then  it  dived,  but  slowly  and  circum- 
spectly, and  came  up  again  soon  after — nearer  the 
floe,  where  Sakhawachiak  lay,  rifle  in  hand.  He 
whistled  and  scratched  on  the  ice — this  last  a  lan- 
guage that  the  seal  understood.  Hullo,  here 
was  a  comrade  basking  in  the  sun's  warm  rays ! 
It  made  the  seal  inclined  to  come  up  itself  on  to 
the  sunny  floe.  ...  It  dived,  but  came  up  again, 
nearer  than  before,  suspecting  nothing;  but  then 
Sakhawachiak  happened  to  frighten  it  by  a  sud- 
den movement.  The  seal  paused,  then  raised  it- 
self in  the  water  to  dive,  dive  deep  and  never  re- 
turn. 

He  must  act  now  or  never,  though  the  chance 
of  reaching  the  seal  was  very  slight— the  shot 


Frozen  Justice        159 

rang  out,  and  the  seal  was  hit  as  it  stood  upright 
in  the  water;  its  head  was  smashed,  the  brown 
trusting  eyes  lost  their  brightness,  and  it  fell 
over,  dead.  Sakhawachiak  flung  down  his  rifle 
and  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  floe  to  see  if  he  could 
reach  the  dead  animal:  but  no,  although  the  seal 
was  floating  on  the  surface  it  was  so  far  from 
Sakhawachiak  that  he  could  not  possibly  get 
it. 

He  saw  the  red  blood  trickle  out  of  the  wound 
in  the  seal's  head,  dyeing  the  water  scarlet;  he 
saw  the  red,  juicy  flesh  where  the  bullet  had  en- 
tered— and  he  sat  down  on  the  ice,  as  near  the 
seal  as  possible,  looking  at  it  with  longing,  greedy 
eyes.  His  hands  moved  nervously,  as  though  he 
were  cutting  it  up ;  and  his  whole  mind  and  body 
yearned  for  the  food  that  lay  drifting  so  near  to 
him,  yet  so  infinitely  far  off. 

How  he  longed  for  a  piece  of  that  juicy  flesh! 
It  would  satisfy  his  hunger,  slake  his  thirst;  and 
he  cudgelled  his  brains  to  find  some  means  of 
drawing  the  seal  in  to  him.  Then  he  had  a  happy 
idea — pulled  off  his  anorak  in  a  second  and  cut 
some  narrow  strips  from  down  the  front,  thereby 
providing  a  line,  which,  though  rather  stiff  and  un- 
handy, improved  when  soaked  in  the  water;  he 
made  fast  his  knife  to  one  end  and  threw  it  out 
at  his  prey. 

The  line  fell  over  the  seal  but  got  no  hold  on 


160        Frozen  Justice 

the  smooth,  slippery  body;  it  slid  off,  and  time 
after  time  he  tried  without  success. 

Then  he  tried  using  his  knife  as  a  javelin;  he 
hurled  it  at  the  seal,  and  at  last  succeeded:  the 
knife  stuck  quivering  in  the  seal's  back — now  he 
had  only  to  haul  in,  slowly,  cautiously,  and  he 
would  soon  have  food. 

The  seal  came  nearer,  but  then  the  knife 
worked  loose  in  the  soft  flesh  and  dropped  out; 
and  while  Sakhawachiak  hurriedly  hauled  in  his 
line  for  another  throw,  he  saw  to  his  horror  that 
the  seal  was  sinking. 

Only  slightly  so  far;  the  seal  still  lay  with  its 
black  back  awash,  but  sinking  it  was,  sinking 
deeper  every  second. 

With  feverish  haste  he  made  another  cast  with 
the  knife,  got  a  hold  and  pulled — too  hard:  the 

line  snapped and  there  lay  the  seal  with  his 

knife  in  its  back,  nearer  indeed  but  nevertheless 
lost  for  ever. 

He  could  just  reach  it  with  the  end  of  his  rifle, 
but  what  was  the  use  of  that?  The  seal  sank, 
disappeared,  while  a  big  blood-red  bubble  rose 
over  the  place  where  it  had  floated.  Sakhawa- 
chiak sat  still  watching  the  bubble  get  bigger  and 
bigger,  glistening  with  blood  and  oil — then  it 
burst,  and  with  it  his  hope  of  food. 

For  a  moment  this  had  a  paralysing  effect  on 
Sakhawachiak,  but  then  he  sprang  up  and  clenched 


Frozen  Justice        161 

his  fists  in  impotent  fury.  So  near  to  food  and  yet 
to  be  cheated  of  it! —  His  hunger  came  upon 
him  again  with  redoubled  force,  that  gnawing 
hunger  which  he  could  not  satisfy.  All  luck  had 
deserted  him, — alone,  adrift  on  an  ice-floe,  and 
now  starving  for  two  days. 

All  at  once  the  thought  of  Black  Joe  struck 
him  and  his  hatred  blazed  up — yes,  of  course, 
that  man  had  to  be  killed.  Sakhawachiak  turned 
round  to  look  at  the  land — and  there  lay  Point 
Hope,  just  level  with  him.  While  he  had  been 
working  with  the  seal  he  had  got  into  a  tidal 
stream,  which  was  rapidly  carrying  his  floe  in  to- 
wards the  point. 

He  could  clearly  see  people  running  to  and  fro 
on  the  beach;  he  saw  them  gather  in  groups  and 
point  at  him  with  excited  and  threatening  ges- 
tures; but  there  was  still  a  lot  of  water  between 
him  and  the  shore  ice — to  reach  it  was  out  of 
the  question. 

But  Sakhawachiak  was  not  going  to  let  those 
people  think  he  was  in  fear  of  his  life  or  on  the 
point  of  starving  to  death,  so  he  drew  himself  up 
to  his  full  height  while  the  little  ice-floe  drifted 
rapidly  on  towards  the  extreme  end  of  Point 
Hope.  There  was  still  hope;  only  when  the 
point  was  passed  would  he  be  irrecoverably  lost, 
for  then  it  was  a  hundred  miles  to  the  next  land, 
right  across  the  great  Kotzebue  Sound. 


162        Frozen  Justice 

Faster  and  faster  the  floe  drifted  on,  now  prop- 
erly caught  by  the  tide,  which  raced  past  Point 
Hope  like  a  mill-stream.  It  bore  in  towards  the 
promontory;  the  dark  belt  of  water  grew  nar- 
rower and  narrower,  it  was  only  a  question  of 
minutes:  would  the  floe  foul  the  ice-foot  or  drift 
past?     The  suspense  was  intolerable. 

Nor  was  it  only  the  man  out  on  the  ice  who  felt 
the  suspense — there  was  excitement  ashore,  people 
running  down,  and  Sakhawachiak  easily  recog- 
nized the  heavy  gait  of  white  folk.  Then  he  made 
out  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk  as  leaders  of  the  whole 
crowd;  they  turned  to  the  natives  and  shouted 
something,  then  ran  on  again  to  the  extreme 
point,  where  they  stationed  themselves  hand  in 
hand  and  waved  in  exultation  to  their  beaten 
enemy. 

And  there  Sakhawachiak  saw  Igluruk  again. 

In  a  flash  he  saw  all  their  life  together;  he  re- 
membered his  pride  and  joy  in  calling  Nuwuk's 
loveliest  woman  his  own;  he  thought  of  her  ten- 
derness, her  delight  in  his  unchallenged  position 
as  leader  of  the  men  of  the  place.  He  thought 
of  the  last  time  he  had  seen  her — when  he  was 
starting  for  the  Kugerakuk — and  then  of  all  his 
bitter  thoughts  about  her  since.  They  over- 
whelmed him;  he  sank  on  his  knee,  threw  his  rifle 
up  to  his  shoulder,  aimed  long  and  carefully — at 
her — and  pulled  the  trigger.     But  the  range  was 


Frozen  Justice        163 

too  great,  the  bullet  fell  short,  and  when  the 
smoke  cleared  away  there  she  stood  still — laugh- 
ing; he  could  see  her,  curse  the  woman!  And  in 
his  insensate  fury  he  sent  shot  after  shot  in  her 
direction. 

They  were  shooting  on  shore  too,  all  of  them: 
the  like  of  this  sport  had  never  come  in  the  way 
of  either  natives  or  whites.  He  recognized  the 
voices  of  the  latter  when  they  shouted  anything 
to  the  natives,  and  he  heard  the  yells  that  an- 
swered them.  He  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  it 
— that  the  white  men  had  promised  the  native 
who  hit  Sakhawachiak  a  whole  year's  provisions 
— but  the  rifles  cracked  away,  and  now  and  then 
a  bullet  reached  his  ice-floe.  He  threw  himself 
down  on  the  ice  and  fired  till  his  last  cartridge 
was  spent — then  flung  his  rifle  into  the  sea;  even 
that,  the  white  man's  weapon,  had  failed  him 
now.  He  stood  up,  a  sure  target  if  the  rifles 
could  have  carried  so  far,  but  now  he  was  be- 
yond Point  Hope  and  every  minute  the  range  in- 
creased. His  eyes  remained  fixed  on  the  land — 
the  last  he  would  see — and  there,  on  the  extreme 
point,  standing  on  an  umiak  turned  bottom  up, 
were  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk.  They  waved  their 
arms  and  shouted  words  which  he  could  not  hear, 
she  tore  a  handkerchief  from  her  head  and  waved 
it  .  .  .  then  they  tired  of  that,  jumped  down 
and  walked  up  inland,  waving  once  more  from  the 


164        Frozen  Justice 

top  of  a  hillock,  then  disappeared — Sakhawachiak 
had  seen  Igluruk  for  the  last  time. 

When  the  floe  had  passed  the  projecting  end 
of  Point  Hope  the  stream  slackened,  and  he 
drifted  down  along  the  shore  ice,  away  from  life. 
And  now,  after  the  excitement  was  over,  hunger 
again  made  itself  felt,  worse  than  before,  far 
worse.  He  sat  down  in  the  middle  of  the  floe 
and  waited,  waited  calmly  for  what  was  to  come. 

He  sat  as  though  asleep — motionless.  Seals 
put  their  heads  up  out  of  the  water  and  looked 
at  the  tranquil  figure.  He  took  no  notice — for 
he  had  no  weapon  to  get  them  with;  he  longed 
for  death,  while  day  departed  and  night  spread 
its  dark  shadows  over  the  crouching  man,  the 
restless  wanderer,  who  was  now  on  his  last  jour- 
ney, waiting,  waiting  to  reach  the  goal. 

When  the  sun  rose  he  sat  there  still,  as  im- 
movable as  when  it  went  down — he  merely  turned 
his  head  to  look  back  at  the  land.  Point  Hope 
had  sunk  beneath  the  horizon,  but  land  was  still 
in  sight — the  steep  mountains  of  the  coast  from 
the  point  eastward  rose  above  the  white  surface 
of  the  ice;  those  nearest  dark  and  sharp,  those 
farther  away  softer  in  outline  and  more  subdued 
in  colour,  while  farthest  east  the  blue  mountains 
melted  into  the  colour  of  the  sky.  And  still  he 
drifted  on,  as  the  current  bore  his  floe  south- 
ward. 


Frozen  Justice        165 

It  was  only  the  ingrained  habit  common  to  all 
children  of  nature,  of  looking  around  them  every 
morning  when  light  follows  darkness,  that  made 
Sakhawachiak  momentarily  interested  in  the  land 
— for  he  was  past  it  long  ago,  it  was  lost  to  him 
and  he  had  no  illusions  on  that  score — he  knew 
for  certain  whither  he  was  bound  and  that  there 
was  only  one  issue  for  him,  the  bitterest  of  all, 
the  last  of  all,  death. 

Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  half  resignedly 
at  his  own  folly  and  sank  back  into  a  state  of 
torpor  .  .  .  still,  stock  still  he  sat  upon  the  ice 
— starving. 

Spring  was  in  the  air,  the  sun  was  shining,  and 
he  was  glad  of  the  relief  it  gave  after  the  cold 
of  the  night;  it  warmed  his  body  and  kept  him 
from  freezing  to  death,  but  hunger  gnawed  him 
worse  than  ever,  for  now  it  was  the  only  physical 
discomfort  he  felt. 

He  could  not  keep  his  thoughts  from  food  and 
remembered  the  many  delicious  meals  he  had  en- 
joyed in  former  days.  He  thought  of  the  food 
he  had  squandered — enormous  quantities  of  it, 
which  might  have  kept  him  alive  a  long,  long 
time.  To  what  purpose?  Oh  well,  to  none, 
since  he  must  die  in  any  case;  he  could  never 
reach  land  and  food  would  only  have  prolonged 
the  agony;  so  perhaps  it  was  best  as  things  were, 
for  the  end  would  come  all  the  sooner. 


166        Frozen  Justice 

He  tried  to  be  satisfied  with  that  and  for  a 
time  succeeded,  but  then  his  thoughts  reverted 
to  Nuwuk,  to  the  life  up  there.  Now  perhaps 
his  former  comrades  had  just  caught  a  whale  and 
were  sledging  in  to  land  with  meat  and  blubber — 
masses  of  them.  Blood  flowed  over  the  trail  and 
the  dogs  were  bathed  in  it,  so  that  their  coats 
stood  out  from  them  in  little  blood-drenched 
tufts.  He  saw  the  bloody  picture  plainly  and  it 
stimulated  his  craving  for  food  ...  ah  yes,  he 
would  be  satisfied  if  he  could  only  have  the  blood 
on  one  of  those  dogs'  coats,  it  would  strengthen 
him  a  little  and  drive  away  that  gnawing  feel- 
ing of  hunger.  And  with  a  slow  smile  he  thought 
of  all  the  meat  and  blubber  there  was  in  Nuwuk 
now,  inconceivable  quantities  for  a  starving  man. 

His  body  he  could  control — it  did  not  move; 
but  his  thoughts  were  unmanageable,  and  one 
picture  after  another  of  former  superfluity  passed 
clearly  before  his  eyes.  His  fancy  called  up  an 
endless  succession  of  luxurious  feasts  and  other, 
more  modest  meals — he  had  been  short  of  food 
before,  but  never  like  this — and  for  a  long  time 
he  sat  enjoying  his  thoughts — wonderful  past,  a 
good  thing  one  can  sometimes  live  in  it! 

A  splash  recalled  him  to  the  present  and  his 
gnawing  hunger:  a  seal  which,  itself  unseen,  had 
long  been  eyeing  the  motionless  figure,  had  been 
frightened  by  some  sudden  movement  and  dived. 


Frozen  Justice        167 

Ah  well,  he  thought,  there  was  a  time  when  I 
could  go  hunting. — and  then  the  seal  would  not 
have  escaped;  but  now  I  am  harmless.  And  he 
moistened  his  lips  with  his  tongue — the  thought 
of  food  had  been  so  intense  that  it  was  almost 
as  if  he  had  had  a  meal. 

But  hunger  soon  refuted  that — it  overwhelmed 
him  with  renewed  force.  "Food,  food!"  he 
burst  out;  "if  only  I  had  a  little  food!"  And 
suddenly  he  remembered  how  he  had  carried  his 
provisions  on  his  back  nearly  the  whole  way  from 
■Nuwuk — might  not  there  be  a  little  bit  left? 

In  feverish  haste  he  searched  his  clothing  .  .  . 
no,  there  wasn't  a  scrap;  but  in  moving  he  felt 
the  empty  sheath  of  his  knife  dangling  against 
his  hip  and  seized  it — it  was  sealskin  and  at  any 
rate  he  could  chew  it. 

For  a  long  while  he  sat  munching  at  the  dry 
sheath,  wishing  with  all  his  heart  that  he  had  a 
knife.  Then  he  could  htive  cut  the  sheath  into 
little  bits  and  swallowed  them — but  he  had  no 
knife  and  so  his  teeth  had  to  do  the  work.  He 
chewed  and  tugged  and  tore  with  his  teeth  at 
the  dry  skin,  which  gradually  dissolved  in  the 
saliva.  It  gave  him  work  for  his  mouth  but  was 
of  little  use  to  his  stomach. 

The  sun  sank  again  in  the  west,  and  darkness 
fell  around  him  as  he  still  sat  chewing.  His 
jaws  ached,  his  teeth  pained  him,  but  he  could  not 


168        Frozen  Justice 

resist  the  desire  of  gnawing  at  the  dry  skin — he 
thought  it  relieved  him,  but  his  mouth  got  full 
of  sour-tasting  saliva  and  he  wanted  something  to 
slake  his  thirst. 

Having  no  knife  he  could  get  no  ice,  but  he 
scraped  a  little  snow  together  and  pressed  it  hard 
in  his  hand  before  putting  it  into  his  mouth. 
That  gave  relief  for  the  moment,  but  it  was  only 
a  short  respite;  his  thirst  returned,  more  violent 
than  before. 

That  night  was  a  cruel  one. 

Starved,  tortured  by  a  burning  thirst,  without 
shelter  in  a  rising  storm,  Sakhawachiak  sat  freez- 
ing and  longing  for  death — why  could  it  not  come 
and  deliver  him  from  the  racking  needs  of  the 
body?  he  longed  for  rest  and  peace. 

When  day  broke  again  he  lay  asleep.  The 
wind  came  tearing  over  the  ice,  driving  loose  snow 
before  it  in  dense  clouds.  It  was  piercingly  cold 
and  yet  merciful;  for  the  snow  it  carried  along 
packed  around  the  death-doomed  body  that 
drifted  on  the  little  ice-floe,  southward,  along  the 
shore  ice. 

Now  there  were  no  sunbeams  to  wake  him,  or 
to  warm  his  cold  body  .  .  .  long  he  slept  on, 
heavily  and  uneasily,  and  even  in  his  sleep  hun- 
ger and  thirst  tormented  him. 

At  length  his  eyes  opened  and  blinked  in  the 
snow — what,  still  alive?-— but  he  did  not  move, 


Frozen  Justice        169 

his  body  was  heavy  as  lead,  his  joints  utterly 
stiff;  why  should  he  try  to  get  up  when  he  was 
quite  comfortable  where  he  lay?  Peace  and 
rest  had  fallen  upon  his  tormented  spirit;  he  felt 
his  hunger,  but  no  so  badly  as  before;  his  thirst 
he  relieved  with  snow — as  for  the  cold,  he 
scarcely  felt  it. 

He  lay  long  awake,  dazed,  uncaring;  but  then 
his  craving  for  food  returned  all  at  once  with 
smarting  violence. 

Half  delirious  he  lay  thinking  of  meat,  fresh 
and  juicy,  longing  for  warm,  nourishing  blood 
.  .  .  blood — ah,  what  was  that  about  blood? 
— he  had  been  thinking  so  long  about  blood — 
yes,  of  course — Igluruk  .  .  .  and  the  object  of 
his  journey  pierced  through  to  his  consciousness 
— she  was  to  die,  and  black  Joe  too. 

He  shut  his  eyes  and  thought  it  over  .  .  . 
die — those  two;  how  was  it,  weren't  they  dead? 
— hadn't  he  shot  them? 

In  vain  he  strove  to  collect  his  thoughts.  The 
wind  whistled  around  him,  the  snow  whirled 
high,  and  great  drifts  were  piling  up  under  the  lee 
of  his  body;  but  he  could  not  think  clearly,  and 
all  the  while  his  thoughts  revolved  about  the 
idea  that  somebody  was  to  die.  He  saw  blood 
behind  his  closed  eyelids — nothing  but  blood  and 
flesh.  What  was  it?  whose  was  it?  .  .  . 
Igluruk's,  of  course — she  had  been  shot,  he  had 


170        Frozen  Justice 

shot  her — and  Black  Joe — now  they  were  no 
longer  man  and  woman — only  dead  meat;  he 
could  eat  them  and  live — ever  so  long. 

Mechanically  Sakhawachiak  stuffed  small  balls 
of  snow  into  his  mouth  and  slaked  his  thirst; 
but  in  his  delirium  his  unchained  fancy  fed  on  the 
corpses  of  the  dead. 

Soon  all  would  be  over. 

Half  dead  with  hunger,  half  frozen,  entirely 
torpid,  he  no  longer  felt  the  needs  of  his  body. 
His  nerves  no  longer  reacted,  but  his  brain  could 
still  work — and  in  an  instant  his  thoughts  flew 
from  the  almost  lifeless  lump  of  mortality  on  the 
ice-floe  in  Kotzebue  Sound  up  to  Nuwuk.  .  .  . 
He  was  sitting  in  his  old  iglo,  felt  its  comfort 
.  .  .  not  so  strange,  either — the  cosy  oil-lamp 
hung  just  beside  him. 

A  thrill  went  through  him — a  feeling  of 
warmth  .  .  .  but  his  thoughts  ran  on — Igluruk, 
where  was  she? 

Not  in  the  iglo  .  .  .  funny,  she  used  always  to 
be  somewhere  near  .  .  .  well,  perhaps  she's  out 
.  .  .  come  back  soon.  .  .  .  Who's  that  speak- 
ing?— what's  that?  .  .  .  dead — who  says  so? 
.  .  .  shot  .  .  .  well,  perhaps  it's  true — he 
couldn't  remember.  .  .  .  The  Kugerakuk?  I'll 
go  tomorrow  ...  oh  yes,  a  long  journey  .  .  . 
Icy  Cape.  .  .  .  Black  Joe  going  too,  why?  .  .  . 
For  a  moment  Sakhawachiak  awoke  to  conscious- 


Frozen  Justice        171 

ness  and  considered.  .  .  .  Black  Joe,  that  cursed 
white  who  had  stolen  his  woman,  his  peace.  .  .  . 
But  it  was  only  a  second  or  two  and  he  was 
away  again.  .  .  .  Whose  woman?  .  .  .  well,  it's 
all  the  same  .  .  .  I'm  lying  here  nice  and  warm 
...  it  doesn't  matter  to  me  whose  woman  it  was. 
.  .  .  I'm  quite  comfortable  .  .  .  warm  .  .  . 
well-fed.  .  .   . 

But  the  storm  howled,  the  small  black  foam- 
topped  waves  lapped  around  the  ice-floe  and  the 
snow  settled  thick  and  soft  about  the  dying  man, 
while  the  floe  drifted  southward,  along  the  shore 
ice,  away  from  land,  out  into  Kotzebue  Sound. 


IX 

OUT  on  the  shore  ice,  right  in  the  middle 
of  Kotzebue  Sound  and  near  the  open 
water,  Takluksrak  had  camped  for  hunt- 
ing seal  and  walrus. 

He  was  not  alone;  his  four  sons  and  their 
women  and  children  lived  with  him.  They  had 
built  themselves  a  little  town  of  snow-houses,  six 
in  all,  one  for  each  family  and  the  last  as  a  store 
for  skins. 

The  sun  shone  warmly  after  the  preceding 
day's  storm;  its  rays  fell  upon  the  little  snow- 
town  glittered  across  the  frozen  waters  and  lit  up 
myriads  of  ice-crystals;  they  played  on  the  open 
water  beyond,  which  had  now  borrowed  the  blue 
of  the  sky.  All  was  bright  and  cheerful  at  Tak- 
luksrak's  camp  out  on  the  edge  of  the  ice. 

The  women  sat  at  home  outside  their  huts 
enjoying  the  warm  sun,  as  they  scraped  skins  or 
filled  big  bladders  with  blubber.  The  children 
helped  as  well  as  they  could,  but  were  always  on 
the  look-out  for  something  more  amusing;  they 
yelled  and  shrieked  when  one  of  the  voracious 
dogs  came  slinking  up  to  steal  a  piece  of  meat  un- 
observed,  and,   if  that  was  no  use,   the  whole 

172 


Frozen  Justice        173 

crowd  of  small  persons  threw  down  their  work 
and  pursued  the  impudent  thief  with  laughter  and 
jubilation  across  the  ice. 

The  women  watched  their  children  and  laughed 
— they  glanced  across  the  glittering  wavelets  at 
their  men,  dashing  hither  and  thither  in  their 
light  little  kayaks  after  seal  or  walrus  or  racing 
each  other — and  they  laughed  again — why  not  be 
happy  and  light-hearted?  the  cold,  harsh  winter 
was  safely  over  and  spring  had  come,  bright  and 
glorious;  they  had  food  and  to  spare,  more  was 
coming  in,  sorrow  was  banished,  life  was  an  easy 
matter. 

Thus  they  laughed,  these  young  women  on  the 
edge  of  the  land  ice,  chaffing  and  putting  their 
heads  together  amid  much  giggling  and  silly  talk, 
while  they  discussed  their  men,  who  were  now 
coming  home,  urging  their  kayaks  over  the  water 
in  a  race  for  who  should  get  in  first. 

They  all  ate  their  fill,  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren; then,  when  they  were  so  stuffed  with  food 
that  they  could  scarcely  move,  the  whole  popula- 
tion of  the  camp  sat  together  and  chatted. 

The  day's  work  was  done,  soon  it  would  be 
bedtime — but  behind  the  iglos  lay  a  lofty  hum- 
mock, from  the  top  of  which  there  was  a  wide 
view,  and  every  evening  in  fine  weather  they  were 
in  the  habit  of  going  up  there  to  throw  a  last 
glance  over  the  sea:  possibly  some  sleeping  seal 


174        Frozen  Justice 

was  just  drifting  by  on  an  ice-floe,  an  easy  prey — 
so  laughing  and  joking  they  set  off  together,  all 
of  them,  grown-ups  and  children. 

Many  pairs  of  eyes  scanned  the  ice  to  the 
south,  west  and  north.  "Look,  there,  there's  a 
seal!"  All  turned  and  looked:  yes,  sure  enough, 
a  little  ice-floe  was  drifting  along  in  the  open  land 
water,  bearing  on  its  back  a  sleeping  seal.  The 
youngest  of  the  brothers,  Uxra,  was  sent  out  to 
take  it,  while  the  rest  of  the  family  settled  down 
on  the  top  of  the  hummock  to  watch. 

Uxra  shot  off  rapidly  in 'his  light  kayak.  The 
sun  shone  on  the  wet  paddle,  sending  flash  after 
flash  to  the  group  on  the  ice — now  he  had  nearly 
reached  the  floe  and  the  still  sleeping  seal. 

He  raised  his  harpoon  and  leaned  back  in 
readiness  to  hurl  it — but  dropped  his  arm  again; 
evidently  he  had  changed  his  mind.  "What 
now?"  exclaimed  the  spectators  on  the  ice;  "what 
is  he  up  to? — is  he  thinking  of  bringing  the  seal 
in  alive?" — and  they  laughed,  all  these  light- 
hearted  souls,  immensely  amused  at  the  young- 
ster's idea — for  his  behaviour  was  certainly  odd: 
he  paddled  slowly  up  to  the  floe,  lay  still  for  a 
long  time  gazing  at  the  seal,  and  then  paddled 
right  round  the  piece  of  ice,  cautiously  and  with 
hesitation.  Again  he  stopped  still;  then  ran  the 
bow  of  the  kayak  up  on  to  the  floe,  crawled  out 
of  it  and  went  up  to  the  seal — not  as  he  usually 


Frozen  Justice        175 

walked,  with  quick  and  springy  steps,  but  slowly 
and  falteringly — as  though  he  were  afraid. 

What  could  it  mean?  What  would  he  take 
into  his  head  next?  And  silence  fell  upon  the 
expectant  group  while  they  watched  Uxra's  move- 
ments with  tense  interest.  They  saw  him  go 
round  the  seal  in  constantly  decreasing  circles; 
then  he  stopped  a  moment  and  bent  forward,  al- 
most touching  the  animal.  His  brothers  held 
their  breath  in  surprise:  what  could  he  be  about? 
— and  surprise  turned  to  uneasiness  when  Uxra 
sprang  up  and  ran  back  to  his  kayak.  Quickly 
he  got  into  it,  and  with  foam  at  the  bow  and  a 
long  double  wake  astern  he  raced  towards  the 
edge  of  the  ice.  He  shouted,  waved,  and  they 
all  ran  down  to  the  water — a  strange  hunt,  this ! 

Breathless  and  sweating  from  his  rapid  pad- 
dling Uxra  drove  his  kayak  up  on  to  the  edge  of 
the  ice,  where  his  kinsfolk  were  standing.  "It's  a 
man!"  he  shouted,  out  of  breath;  "but  he's  dead. 
He's  lying  out  there  on  the  ice-floe  half  buried  in 


snow." 


A  dead  man ! 

A  shudder  went  through  the  Eskimos,  so 
happy  a  moment  ago,  but  now  suddenly  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  sterner  side  of  life.  Yes, 
life  is  hard  on  the  coasts  of  the  Arctic,  hunting 
is  perilous,  death  reaps  a  big  harvest.  Today  it 
is  a  stranger  who  succumbs  to  the  fury  of  the  el- 


176        Frozen  Justice 


ements,  tomorrow  perhaps  it  will  be  myself — no 
one  can  feel  himself  safe — some  mischance,  some 
accident,  and  death  comes — perhaps  it  is  already- 
stretching  out  its  arms  to  take  us — the  ice  may 
have  cracked  to  landward  of  the  camp,  may  crack 
tonight,  while  every  one  is  asleep,  and  tomor- 
row we  may  be  adrift  with  the  ice,  like  the  corpse 
out  yonder. 

They  huddled  together  and  looked  at  each 
other  with  scared  eyes — death  is  always  so  hard 
to  understand;  but  curiosity  prevailed  over  fear. 
"We  must  see  who  it  is — Uxra,  did  you  know 
him?  was  he  killed  or  frozen  to  death?" 

Uxra  could  not  say — he  had  not  given  himself 
time  to  investigate  the  corpse  so  closely;  but  in 
a  trice  an  umiak  was  got  ready  and  launched,  and 
and  a  few  moments  later  all  but  the  children  were 
on  their  way  to  the  floe. 

They  approached  warily,  rowed  round  the  ice- 
floe once — twice — while  they  looked  at  the  corpse 
and  discussed  in  low  tones  who  it  could  be.  The 
first  uncanny  feeling  soon  wore  off — after  all 
there  was  safety  in  numbers — and  they  had  to 
examine  the  corpse,  for  it  might  be  the  body  of  a 
friend. 

They  landed  and  crept  carefully  up  on  to  the 
floe.  The  dead  man  lay  on  his  side;  he  had 
drawn  his  legs  up  under  him  and  the  snow  had 
nearly  covered  his  body. 


Frozen  Justice        177 

Snow  and  rime  hung  on  the  long  hairs  of 
the  anorak  over  the  dead  man's  face — it  was 
almost  hidden — who  could  it  be?  He  was 
not  from  Point  Hope — his  dress  was  differ- 
ent from  that  they  wore  there.  He  must 
come  from  the  far  north,  from  Icy  Cape  or 
Nuwuk. 

Silently  they  stood  looking  at  the  dead  man  who 
had  drifted  so  far  with  the  ice:  what  must  he 
have  gone  through:  what  must  he  have  suffered, 
before  he  found  peace ! 

But  suddenly  the  Eskimos  gave  a  start  and 
shrank  away  shuddering — the  rime  which  hung 
down  over  the  dead  man's  mouth  moved  just  a 
little. 

They  looked  at  each  other — was  he  not  dead 
after  all?  Was  it  possible  that  the  ice,  cold  and 
hunger  could  give  back  their  prey?  They  hud- 
dled together,  not  one  of  them  would  go  near 
the  thing  that  lay  on  the  ice — they  had  better 
jump  into  the  umiak  and  row  away — back  to  the 
camp  where  they  had  been  so  happy  just 
now  .  .  .  and  yet  .  .  .  think  if  the  man  were 
alive!  Soon  perhaps  one  of  them  might  be  in 
the  same  case. 

At  last  old  Nanegarak,  who  was  Takluksrak's 
woman,  took  heart  and  approached  the  man, 
slowly  and  hesitatingly.  For  a  long  time  she 
stood  and  looked  at  him;  then  she  bent  down 


178        Frozen  Justice 

resolutely  and  thrust  her  hand  up  under  the 
anorak  to  the  man's  heart. 

In  silent  suspense  the  hard-trained,  weather- 
beaten  hunters  stood  watching  those  two  .  .  . 
then  she  rose  up :     "Make  haste — he's  alive  !" 

All  fear  of  the  dead  and  dread  of  the  unknown 
vanished;  the  skin-clad  folk  were  active  again 
at  once  and  all  were  anxious  to  help.  Gently 
and  cautiously  they  carried  Sakhawachiak  down 
to  the  umiak  and  rowed  away  to  the  hunting  camp. 

It  took  a  long  time  to  get  life  into  him,  but 
it  was  not  the  first  time  they  had  had  to  deal  with 
stiff-frozen,  starved  people.  They  went  to  work 
slowly  and  methodically.  His  frozen  limbs  were 
thawed,  warm  seal-meat  broth  was  poured  into 
his  mouth — they  wrestled  with  death  for  its  prey, 
and  slowly,  infinitely  slowly,  Sakhawachiak  glided 
back  from  the  Kingdom  of  Death  into  the  land  of 
the  living. 

For  a  fortnight  Takluksrak  stayed  out  by  the 
land  water,  and  the  laughter  and  chaff  grew  silent 
whenever  they  passed  the  hurriedly-built  snow 
iglo  where  the  sick  man  lay,  nursed  by  Takluks- 
rak's  daughter,  Douglamana.  But  the  sun  was 
gaining  power;  it  wore  away  the  ice;  time  after 
time  they  had  to  move  their  little  sealing  town 
farther  in,  lest  they  should  drift  out  to  sea.  Now 
they  no  longer  dared  to  stay  there,  and  with 
Sakhawachiak,  still  only  half  conscious  and  wholly 


Frozen  Justice        179 

delirious  from  fever,  on  a  sledge,  well  packed  in 
warm  skins,  they  migrated  to  their  regular  sum- 
mer camp  on  the  shore  of  Kotzebue  Sound. 
There  it  was  that  Sakhawachiak  came  to  himself 
and  took  a  new  lease  of  life. 

A  silent  man  he  had  always  been;  now  he  was 
more  silent  still.  They  knew  who  he  was,  and 
that  he  came  from  Nuwuk — but  how  he  had  got 
adrift  on  the  ice,  and  where  and  why,  he  did  not 
mention.  They  did  not  ask,  either :  the  sick  man 
might  speak  if  he  liked,  or  hold  his  peace  if  he 
preferred  it.  But  Douglamana,  who  had  re- 
called him  to  life  and  nursed  him  ever  since,  often 
sat  bent  over  the  sick  man,  while  her  thoughts 
sought  far  and  wide  for  an  explanation.  In  his 
delirium  he  had  talked,  but  only  incomprehensible 
words. 

No  sledges  came ;  it  was  too  late  in  the  year — 
the  snow  was  soft.  Nor  did  any  boats  come — 
the  ice  was  not  melted  yet.  So  Takluksrak  with 
all  his  clan  was  cut  off  from  the  outer  world  and 
did  not  get  in  touch  with  the  Eskimos  of  Point 
Hope  until  long  after  he  had  returned  to  land. 
Then  people  arrived  in  umiak  and  kayak,  and 
they  told  the  story  of  Black  Joe  and  Igluruk  and 
all  about  Sakhawachiak's  furious  chase. 

For  the  sake  of  a  woman?  That  was  incom- 
prehensible: they  could  not  understand  it.  A 
woman  is  only  a  woman — if  one  runs  away  you 


180        Frozen  Justice 

take  another;  there  was  nothing  more  in  it  than 
that,  and  there  were  plenty  of  women.  Why 
hold  on  to  one  as  fast  as  Sakhawachiak  had  held 
on  to  Igluruk,  especially  when  that  one  was  no 
use?  No,  let  her  go  and  thank  your  stars  for  it! 
Many  and  long  were  the  discussions  in  Takluks- 
rak's  big  tent  and  Sakhawachiak  was  the  subject 
of  them.  His  importance  at  Nuwuk  was  not 
made  any  less  in  the  telling,  and  the  Eskimos 
knew  how  to  appreciate  the  journey  he  had  under- 
taken— but  they  never  could  understand  any  man 
doing  what  he  had  done  just  for  the  sake  of  a 
woman. 

Except  Douglamana.  She  was  still  young  and 
had  long  been  looking  out  for  a  husband.  Now 
the  ice  had  brought  her  one,  and  she  felt  a  sort 
of  proprietary  right  over  the  still  ailing  Sakha- 
wachiak— for  it  was  she  who  for  many  days  and 
nights  had  fought  with  death  for  the  unconscious 
man — she  had  won,  and  the  man  must  be  hers. 

She  knew  the  whole  story  about  Black  Joe  and 
Igluruk — she  had  it  both  from  the  north  and  the 
south — she  knew  that  Black  Joe  had  sledged 
down  to  the  south  coast  of  Kotzebue  Sound,  to  a 
place  where  many  white  men  live.  She  knew  that 
Igluruk  was  with  him,  but  had  also  heard  that  Joe 
;«ras  still  possessed  by  fear,  and  that  it  had  driven 
him  still  farther  south,  clean  away  beyond  Sakha- 
wachiak's  reach,  over  the  great  seas  to  the  white 


Frozen  Justice        181 

men's  country.  As  to  Igluruk,  she  knew  that 
Black  Joe  had  deserted  her,  and  that  she  had 
another  man,  a  white,  several  in  fact — and  lived 
at  Candle,  the  gold-diggers'  town. 

That  story  did  not  worry  her,  and  as  she  sat  in 
the  tent  beside  the  sick  man  she  yearned  for  him; 
and  when  Sakhawachiak  got  better  and  began  to 
go  about  again,  Douglamana  moved  from  her 
parents'  tent  into  his. 

Autumn  came,  and  Sakhawachiak  grew  as 
strong  and  active  as  before.  He  went  hunting 
like  the  other  Eskimos,  killed  seal  and  walrus  in 
the  sea  and  reindeer  on  land;  a  good  hunter  he 
had  always  been,  lucky  too  as  a  rule;  he  could 
easily  provide  for  his  woman  and  have  something 
to  spare,  so  he  was  able  to  give  old  Takluksrak 
both  skins  and  oil  in  exchange  for  his  daughter. 

Sakhawachiak's  life  with  Douglamana  was  a 
different  one  from  that  he  had  lived  before. 
Formerly,  besides  looking  after  his  own  work,  he 
had  had  to  see  to  everything  indoors — Igluruk, 
the  half-caste  could  do  nothing.  But  Douglamana, 
the  pure-bred  Eskimo,  had  learnt  a  woman's 
duties  since  she  was  a  little  child:  she  could 
clean  skins  and  tan  them,  make  clothes  better  than 
anybody;  and  when  Sakhawachiak  came  home, 
tired  from  hunting,  he  felt  a  sense  of  well-being 
as  he  sat  in  his  tent  or  in  the  winter  iglo,  watching 
Douglamana's   nimble   fingers.     She   never  was 


182        Frozen  Justice 

idle,  always  busy,  even  when  cooking  she  found 
time  to  work  at  other  things — she  was  just  the 
mate  to  suit  him,  the  industrious,  hard-working 
Sakhawachiak. 

They  talked  about  everything — the  present, 
the  future  too;  but  the  past — no,  that  was  never 
alluded  to.  All  that  went  before  Sakhawachiak' s 
awakening  in  the  snow-iglo  on  the  land  ice  in  Kot- 
zebue  Sound,  he  kept  to  himself — it  was  dead  and 
buried.  Douglamana  never  asked  questions — 
it  was  before  her  time,  did  not  concern  her;  but 
when  Sakhawachiak  sat  idly  in  the  iglo,  kept  at 
home  by  furious  winter  storms,  he  would  be  silent 
and  reserved  for  hours  at  a  time.  He  would 
gaze  before  him  with  an  absorbed  air:  was  it  Iglu- 
ruk  he  was  thinking  of  then,  or  the  white  man's 
villainy?  Was  it  that  fearful  journey  along  the 
coast  in  pursuit  of  the  two  that  occupied  his 
thoughts?  Was  it  perhaps  death,  which  he  had 
felt  in  his  soul — or  was  it  yearning  for  Nuwuk? 

Douglamana  did  not  ask,  but  sat  still  in  her 
hut;  she  looked  at  Sakhawachiak  and  longed  for 
him  to  speak,  but  never  troubled  Turn  with  un- 
necessary questions — it  was  best  as  it  was. 

Sakhawachiak  spent  a  couple  of  years  on  Kot- 
zebue  Sound  and  soon  became  the  leader  there  as 
he  had  been  at  Nuwuk;  but  he  never  felt  really 
at  home  and  often  longed  to  be  back  in  his  own 
country.     There  was  more  peace   and  quiet  up 


Frozen  Justice        183 


there,  the  plains  were  more  spacious,  the  hunting 
better;  and  in  springtime  his  blood  would  warm  at 
the  thought  of  the  brave,  thrilling  battles  with 
the  whale. 

Down  here  everything  was  on  too  small  a  scale, 
the  hunting  included — he  longed,  longed  incon- 
trollably  for  his  native  place.  He  talked  it  over 
with  Douglamana — they  agreed,  and  one  early 
spring,  the  third  after  his  coming  to  Kotzebue 
Sound,  he  loaded  a  sledge  with  his  few  belongings 
and  set  off  northward. 

They  had  no  reason  to  hurry,  so  the  journey 
took  time;  they  stopped  when  they  came  to  places 
where  the  hunting  seemed  good;  and  they  spent 
the  winter  on  the  coast,  halfway  between  Cape 
Lisbourne  and  Icy  Cape. 

But  when  the  following  spring  came,  Sakha- 
wachiak  could  no  longer  master  his  restless  blood 
and  his  longing  for  Nuwuk,  and  the  few  house- 
hold things  were  packed  once  more  on  the  sledge. 
Douglamana  went  in  front  to  show  the  way  and 
encourage  the  dogs,  Sakhawachiak  beside  the 
sledge  with  a  hauling  strap  over  his  shoulder,  and 
thus  they  left  the  little  hut  where  they  had  spent 
the  winter — but  not  alone :  a  little  boy  peeped 
over  Douglamana's  shoulder  from  the  warm 
shelter  of  the  anorak. 

They  went  northward  slowly,  but  expected  to 
reach  Nuwuk  before  the  snow  melted  and  made 


184        Frozen  Justice 

sledging  impossible.  But  they  were  not  making 
much  progress;  if  there  was  a  storm  they  halted, 
and  if  the  hunting  on  the  way  was  good,  they 
stopped  again  to  eat  their  fill  and  gather  strength 
for  the  next  spell  of  sledging.  Why  should  they 
hurry?  the  whole  coast  was  their  home;  Nuwuk, 
when  all  was  said  and  done,  only  a  meeting-place. 

They  were  nearing  Icy  Cape  and  met  strangers 
from  the  north,  inhabitants  of  the  settlement. 
These  had  forgotten  Sakhawachiak  and  their 
harsh  treatment  of  him  on  his  southward  jour- 
ney— it  was  only  an  episode,  a  passing  glimpse, 
gone  and  forgotten.  And  he? — well,  he  har- 
boured no  rancour,  no  hatred  towards  his  coun- 
trymen; he  understood  their  conduct,  dependent 
as  they  were  on  the  whites  and  incited  by  their 
lies.  No,  it  was  best  to  let  bygones  be  bygones 
— to  remember  nothing  but  the  lesson :  beware  of 
the  white  man! 

So  Sakhawachiak  met  his  countrymen  without 
bitterness  and  was  glad  when  he  came  upon  the 
first  from  Icy  Cape;  now  he  could  get  news 
from  Nuwuk — communication  between  the  two 
settlements  was  not  infrequent. 

The  Eskimos  from  the  north  were  full  of 
news,  but  not  from  Nuwuk;  there  was  something 
that  lay  nearer  to  land — famine  and  misery 
were  devastating  Icy  Capes  and  its  inhabitants. 

The  whaling  fleet  had  got  into  difficulties  in  the 


Frozen  Justice        185 

ice  on  their  way  in  the  year  before.  Some  of 
the  ships  had  worked  their  way  through  and  es- 
caped into  open  water,  but  six  vessels,  includ- 
ing four  large  ones,  had  been  forced  in  to  the 
land  by  the  ice,  frozen  fast  and  had  their  sides 
crushed  in  in  the  course  of  the  winter. 

The  crews  numbered  about  five  hundred 
men.  Their  provisions  were  exhausted;  and 
though  the  Eskimos  had  had  successful  hunting, 
'that  went  no  way  in  supplying  the  need;  famine, 
nay,  worse,  death  from  starvation  threatened 
not  only  the  whites  but  also  the  whole  native 
population. 

And  there  was  sickness  too — many  had  died 
— sorrow  and  misfortune  followed  now  as  ever 
in  the  white  men's  track. 

Sakhawachiak  and  Douglamana  were  silent 
a  long  time  when  they  heard  the  news.  She 
looked  at  him  with  questioning,  beseeching 
eyes — thought  of  the  little  one  who  hung  on  her 
back,  and  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  Icy  Cape. 
But  he  did  not  see  her,  nor  yet  her  beseeching  eyes 
— he  was  thinking  of  the  white  men,  the  enemies 
of  the  natives,  and  rejoiced  at  the  disaster  that 
had  overtaken  the  race  which  had  destroyed 
peace  and  quiet  on  the  coasts  of  Alaska. 

Never  had  he  spoken  to  Douglamana  about 
the  white  men's  wickedness,  never  told  her  that 
it  was  a  white  man  who  had  well-nigh  sent  him  to 


186        Frozen  Justice 

his  death;  he  kept  that  to  himself,  but  hated  the 
race  with  heartfelt  hatred — and  he  fancied  he 
could  see  Black  Joe,  smiling,  handsome,  but  false, 
the  very  symbol  of  the  white  people. 

A  long  while  he  sat  lost  in  his  meditations  on 
injustice  and  contempt,  while  Douglamana 
watched  the  play  of  his  features  and  tried  to 
guess  its  meaning.  For  she  knew  the  story  of 
Black  Joe  and  Igluruk  and  knew  that  he  was 
now  nursing  his  smouldering  hate  and  blowing 
new  life  into  the  dying  embers ;  and  she  felt  that 
something  she  could  not  exorcise  had  come  be- 
tween her  and  Sakhawachiak,  and  that  her  power 
over  him  was  gone. 

She  bowed  her  head  and  took  her  little  child 
out  of  the  warm  anorak:  if  anything  could  hold 
Sakhawachiak  back  it  was  surely  that  little  be- 
ing. She  caressed  it  a  moment,  then  took  the 
child  in  both  hands  and  held  it  up  before  him. 
He  pushed  it  aside  and  got  up —  "Come, 
Douglamana!" 

An  hour  later  they  were  on  their  way,  Sakha- 
wachiak urging  his  dogs  northward  towards 
sickness,  hunger  and  want,  towards  the  frozen- 
in  fleet  and  its  five  hundred  men;  he  wanted  to 
see  their  sufferings,  wanted  to  enjoy  their  des- 
titution, wanted  to  sit  and  watch  till  the  whole 
lot  fell  away,  shrunk  up,  died  of  starvation. 

So  he  urged  on  the  dogs  and  made  the  woman 


Frozen  Justice        187 

hurry — the  wild  gleam  had  returned  to  his  eyes 
and  Douglamana  no  longer  knew  him. 

They  drew  near  to  Icy  Cape  and  could  see 
the  masts  of  the  doomed  ships;  he  whipped  up 
the  dogs  and  encouraged  them — there  was  no 
peace  for  his  mind  till  he  could  see  the  white 
men  suffer. 

Death  had  set  its  mark  on  the  settlements: 
the  Eskimos'  cheeks  were  hollow,  their  caches 
were  empty  of  meat — hunger  gnawed  them 
already — their  dogs  slunk  about  with  a  strange 
shadowy  gaunt  look — the  curse  of  white  men  was 
upon  the  land,  and  in  impotent  fury  Sakhawa- 
chiak  shook  his  fists  at  the  hulls.  "Away 
with  them,  the  scoundrels,"  he  muttered — "let 
them  die.  Then  the  natives  will  have  some- 
thing to  eat,  but  not  before — to  feed  so  many 
months  is  quite  impossible." 

There  were  no  white  men  ashore,  they  kept 
on  board;  and  Sakhawachiak  drove  his  sledge 
past  the  settlement,  out  to  the  ships,  and  there 
camped  in  full  view  of  them. 

Sakhawchiak  sat  outside  his  tent  eating — he 
enjoyed  the  sight  of  the  white  men  standing  on 
deck  watching  him.  Then  a  man  came  across 
the  ice;  it  was  one  of  the  skippers.  "Have  you 
got  food?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Sakhawachiak;  "I  have  got 
food.     Would  you  like  to  see  it?"  and  showed 


188        Frozen  Justice 

the  white  man  the  meat  he  had  brought  with 
him  on  the  sledge,  grand  juicy  meat. 

"Can  we  buy  it?"  asked  the  white  skipper 
with  a  greedy  look;  "what  do  you  want  for  it?" 

But  Sakhawachiak  only  laughed,  a  hard,  evil 
laugh.  "To  a  white  man  I  sell  nothing.  ...  I 
am  sitting  here  to  enjoy  seeing  the  white  men 
starve,  and  I  will  stay  here  till  the  punishment 
they  have  brought  on  themselves  is  accom- 
plished." 

The  white  man's  face  flushed  and  he  looked 
as  if  he  would  strike  the  native;  but  Sakhawachiak 
did  not  stir — this  white  man  was  not  dangerous. 

And  he  laughed  to  see  his  undisguised  greed 
for  the  meat.  "So  you  need  food,  do  you?  Ah, 
that's  bad;  I  needed  it  myself  one  time  and  came 
near  starving  to  death — that  was  the  white 
men's  fault." 

"I  guess  the  other  natives  around  here  have 
starved  too,"  said  the  stranger — "but  they  didn't 
refuse  to  share  with  us.  We  need  food,  I  tell 
you,  need  it  badly;  we're  dying  of  starvation. 
Give  us  a  little  of  what  you've  got  on  your 
sledge  .  .  .  but  tell  me  first  — who  are  you  and 
what  makes  you  break  the  first  commandment 
of  Alaska — to  feed  the  hungry?" 

"Sakhawachiak!" 

"From  Nuwuk?"  and  the  white  skipper  gave 
a  low  whistle.     "Oh  well,   if  you're   Sakhawa- 


Frozen  Justice        189 

chiak  of  Nuwuk,  why  .  .  ."  and  he  turned  on 
his  heel  and  went  back  to  his  ship.  He  knew 
all  about  Black  Joe  and  the  vanished  Sakhawa- 
chiak;  knew  too  that  the  whites  of  Point  Hope 
had  fired  on  him,  but  he  had  never  dreamt  that 
he  was  still  alive. 

Sakhawachiak  sat  on  outside  his  tent  watch- 
ing the  ships  with  a  look  of  hatred;  his  rifle  lay 
beside  him,  ready  to  shoot,  if  it  came  to  that. 
He  saw  that  word  was  being  passed  from  one 
ship  to  another  in  the  doomed  fleet,  and  the  ex- 
citement caused  by  the  news.  Men  came  up 
on  deck  and  stared  towards  the  land,  towards 
the  tent  that  stood  all  alone  near  the  ships — 
and  at  the  man  who  had  food  but  refused  to 
sell  it  to  famished  white  folk.  And  rumour 
had  more  to  say  about  the  man,  Sakhawachiak — 
that  he  had  been  looked  upon  as  dead  for  the 
last  three  or  four  years;  that  he  had  got  adrift 
on  the  ice  and  had  passed  Point  Hope — still 
drifting — and  now  he  was  sitting  over  there 
with  a  sledge  load  of  meat,  the  only  meat  at  Icy 
Cape,  and  wouldn't  sell. 

Sakhawachiak  jumped  up;  his  eyes  hardened 
— what  was  this,  were  they  going  to  try  a  set- 
to  with  him?  For  a  group  of  men,  all  whites, 
was  approaching  over  the  ice.  Did  they  mean 
to  use  force? 

The  group  came  nearer,  and  a  big  bearded 


190        Frozen  Justice 

man  stepped  up  to  the  native.  "Sakhawachiak, 
do  you  know  me?" 

He  looked  at  the  emaciated  face  and  nodded — 
yes! 

In  a  flash  Sakhawachiak's  thoughts  went  back 
to  Nuwuk,  to  the  happiest  days  of  his  life,  when 
he  was  still  the  great  hunter  and  had  whalebone 
to  sell.  At  that  time  this  man  who  was  standing 
before  him  humbled  and  wasted  by  starvation, 
had  been  his  best  friend — James  Smith,  skipper 
of  the  Narwhale. 

Sakhawachiak  thought  of  the  many  times  this 
man  had  shown  him  friendship;  once  in  particu- 
lar, long  before  Jim  Hacklet  and  Black  Joe 
came  to  the  country,  when  the  hunting  had  failed 
and  he  had  no  whalebone  or  skins  with  which 
to  buy  goods.  Then  James  Smith  had  let  him 
have  supplies  for  a  whole  year,  and  Sakhawa- 
chiak had  promised  him  friendship  for  life. 
He  bowed  his  head  and  thought — bitter 
thoughts.  He  hated  the  whites  and  considered 
he  had  good  reason  to  do  so;  but  was  it  right? 
— after  all,  there  were  good  men  among  them 
Was  it  not  unjust  of  him  to  hate  them  all? — 
was  it  not  wrong? — here  was  a  man,  his  friend, 
who  had  once  helped  him — was  he  to  refuse 
him  help  in  return? 

Sakhawachiak  rose  and  gave  his  hand  to 
James  Smith.     "Yes,  I  know  you;  you  are  my 


Frozen  Justice        191 

friend  and  helped  me  many  times.  But  all  the 
others  .  .  .    ?" 

"Look  at  them — don't  you  know  any  of 
them?" 

Sakhawachiak  looked  round  the  circle  of 
faces  ...  ay,  ay,  there  were  old  acquaintances 
among  them:  the  skipper  of  the  Mayflower,  was 
there,  and  the  skipper  of  the  Mary  Rose,  good 
friends  both  of  them;  several  he  knew,  their 
mates  too — these  were  not  such  bad  white  men. 
And  he  went  round  shaking  hands  with  them — 
"This  is  a  bad  business." 

"Come  aboard,  Sakhawachiak,"  James  Smith 
was  again  the  spokesman;  "we  know  all  about 
Black  Joe  and  Igluruk — he's  no  good,  nor  she 
either;  don't  think  any  more  about  them  or  the 
trouble  they've  made.  But  you  can  help  us  if 
you  will;  and  what  do  you  think  yourself?  is  it 
right  to  revenge  yourself  on  us  for  what  others 
did  to  you? — Sakhawachiak,  there  are  bad  Es- 
kimos too." 

A  struggle  was  going  on  in  Sakhawachiak: 
his  old  sense  of  fairness  awoke;  why  should 
these  men  suffer  because  others  of  their  race 
were  villians?  It  was  wrong,  bad  of  him  .  .  . 
he  did  not  hesitate  long,  but  raised  his  head  and 
looked  at  the  white  men.  "What  do  you  want 
me  to  do?" 

"Come  aboard,"  said  James  Smith — "and  you 


192        Frozen  Justice 

shall  see."  Together  they  walked  out  to  the 
ships. 

First  they  boarded  the  Narwhale  and  went 
below,  followed  by  the  rest.  The  mate  of  the 
vessel,  also  a  former  acquaintance,  lay  in  his 
bunk;  his  gums  were  swollen  and  purple,  his  eyes 
dull  and  his  hand  clammy — and  Sahkawachiak 
turned  away;  but  his  eyes  fell  on  another  sick 
man,  and  a  third — all  victims  of  scurvy. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  James  Smith;  "I  can 
show  you  more." 

They  entered  the  coxswains'  quarters — all  were 
down,  with  blue  and  swollen  limbs.  Among  the 
harpooners  it  was  the  same — sickness  every- 
where; and  in  the  forecastle  more  than  half  the 
crew  lay  in  a  stinking,  stifling  atmosphere,  poor 
emaciated  wretches  who  stretched  out  their  hands 
to  Sakhawachiak  as  the  personification  of  health. 

He  bent  his  head:  no,  they  had  not  exagger- 
ated, the  Eskimos  he  had  met  running  away  from 
the  horrors  on  sea  and  land — this  was  worse 
than  they  had  told  him. 

He  went  round  with  James  Smith  from  ship 
to  ship  and  saw  sickness  and  want  everywhere: 
emaciated  men  with  the  mark  of  death  on  them, 
who  scarcely  cared  to  turn  their  heads  at  the  ap- 
proach of  a  stranger.  But  they  woke  to  life,  all 
of  them,  after  he  had  gone — what  was  this  ru- 
mour that  was  going  round  the  fleet?     Could  it 


Frozen  Justice        193 

be  possible  that  help  was  really  at  hand?  Was 
it  true  that  James  Smith  had  at  last  found  a  man 
to  sledge  down  to  the  white  men's  country  with 
news  of  their  distress? 

When  Sakhawachiak  returned  to  the  Nar- 
whale,  Captain  Smith  and  the  others  accom- 
panied him  into  the  cabin — they  sat  round  the 
table  in  silence. 

"Well,  Sakhawachiak ;"  Smith  began  at  last — 
"what  do  you  say  now?" 

"They  will  die,"  said  Sakhawachiak;  "all  those 
who  have  scurvy.  .  .  ." 

"Yes,  and  a  lot  more  too,"  broke  in  the  skipper 
of  the  Mayflower;  "not  a  man  of  the  whole 
crowd  will  get  away  alive  if  we  don't  get  help." 

"Steady,  steady,"  Smith  warned  him  in  Eng- 
lish; "leave  it  to  me.  He  knows  me  best  and 
has  promised  me  friendship.  He  won't  break 
that  promise,  I'll  be  bound."  And  turning  to 
Sakhawachiak  he  went  on:  "You  know,  Sakha- 
wachiak, that  there  are  whites  at  Point  Hope; 
they  can  help  some  .  .  .  but  farther  off  still  is 
the  white  man's  country,  and  that's  where  help 
will  have  to  come  from.  We've  tried  to  find  a 
messenger;  nobody  dares  go,  nobody  can  go,  ex- 
cept you.  Now  you've  seen  for  yourself  how 
things  are.  Black  Joe  did  you  a  wrong,  maybe 
other  whites  have  too — but  we  haven't.  You've 
known  several  of  us  for  years  and  you  know  we're 


194        Frozen  Justice 

good  men — are  you  going  to  let  us  die  on  account 
of  Black  Joe?" 

Sakhawachiak  sat  in  silence  at  the  cabin  table 
— he  thought  of  Joe  and  of  his  hatred  of  the 
whites,  which  urged  him  to  leave  them  shift  for 
themselves — but  was  it  just?  Would  he  not  be 
behaving  worse  than  Black  Joe  if  he  refused  his 
help?     Could  he  do  it? 

"Think  of  your  own  countrymen  over  there"— 
and  Captain  Smith  pointed  towards  the  Icy  Cape 
settlement — "they  will  die  too,  if  help  doesn't 
come." 

"They  helped  the  whites,"  said  Sakhawachiak 
sharply;  "they  chased  me  out  of  the  place  like  a 
mad  dog.  Where  are  Tom  and  Richard — 
where's  Fritz?" 

"Gone,  quit  the  country  long  ago,"  answered 
Smith;  and  there  was  a  brooding  silence  in  the 
close  cabin  while  they  waited  in  supense  for  an  an- 
swer. 

"I  have  a  woman  here,  Douglamana — a  better 
one  than  Igluruk;  what  about  her?" 

"Take  her  with  you  or  let  her  stay;  you  have 
some  meat  on  your  sledge — she  shall  keep  the 
whole  of  it,  and  if  we  get  any  game  she  shall  be 
the  first  to  have  some.  You  can  trust  me."  And 
Sakhawachiak  knew  that  James  Smith  spoke  the 
truth. 


Frozen  Justice        195 

"I  will  speak  to  Douglamana,"  said  Sakhawa- 
chiak,  getting  up  to  go ;  but  the  white  men  would 
not  let  him.  They  felt  that  he  was  half  won  over 
and  feared  he  might  change  his  mind  if  he  once 
went  ashore  to  his  woman.  "We'll  send  for 
Douglamana." 

In  a  little  while  she  came,  with  her  son  on  her 
back.     "Did  you  call?" 

The  case  was  quickly  explained  to  her  and  she 
understood  what  they  required  of  her  husband. 
Her  eyes  were  wet  with  tears  .  .  .  oh,  those  end- 
less days  on  the  sledge !  It  was  a  good  deal  to 
ask.  But  she  looked  at  the  serious  faces  of  the 
white  men  and  knew  that  much  was  at  stake ;  she 
bowed  her  head  and  answered:  "As  you  will, 
Sakhawachiak,  but  I  will  go  with  you." 

Long  they  sat  silent — Sakhawachiak  was  at  the 
parting  of  the  ways:  hate  and  friendship  were 
struggling  for  the  mastery.  If  Black  Joe  had 
never  come  into  his  life  he  would  have  gone  at 
once,  without  a  moment's  hesitation  .  .  .  but 
now — ? 

"You  shall  have  whatever  you  like  for  it," 
James  Smith  tempted  him;  but  Sakhawachiak  cut 
him  short.  "If  I  do  it,  it  will  be  for  your  sake, 
for  the  sake  of  the  friendship  I  promised  you,  not 
for  payment" — and  he  relapsed  into  silence. 
Captain  Smith  saw  that  he  had  made  a   slip. 


196        Frozen  Justice 

"Do  it  for  the  sake  of  our  friendship  then,  Sak- 
hawachiak.  I  and  all  the  others  will  always  be 
your  friends." 

"White  men's  promises  are  not  good,"  an- 
swered Sakhawachiak  shortly.  "I  know  you  and 
several  of  the  others;  I  believe  you  will  keep  your 
word.  But  I  don't  trust  white  men  any  more — 
I've  learnt  what  their  promises  are  worth." 

The  white  men  hung  their  heads :  it  was  only 
too  true,  and  in  despair  the  skipper  of  the  May- 
flower dropped  his  head  on  his  arms  and  sobbed 
aloud:  "My  God,  my  God,  we  shall  all  die  I" — 
but  this  outburst  of  self-abandonment  spurred 
Sakhawachiak  to  a  decision.  He  banged  on  the 
table.  "Don't  talk  of  your  God;  I  once  believed 
in  him,  but  I  have  discovered  that  he  is  the  worst 
of  everything  that  is  white.  Very  well,  I  will  do 
what  you  ask.  If  your  God  can't  help  you,  I 
will!" 

The  next  day  he  drove  off  southward,  along 
the  trail  he  had  so  recently  followed,  accompanied 
by  Douglamana,  their  child  and  a  young  Eskimo. 

He  had  the  best  dogs  to  be  found  at  Icy  Cape 
and  the  best  sledge ;  a  little  food  he  had  too,  but 
only  enough  for  a  day  or  two;  the  rest  he  left 
behind.  He  had  to  travel  light,  he  had  to  drive 
fast,  if  help  was  to  arrive  in  time.  He  would  get 
food  as  he  went,  for  there  was  game  everywhere; 
and  accompanied  by  the  heartfelt  good  wishes  of 


Frozen  Justice        197 

the  white  men  he  drove  off  to  bring  help  to  those 
he  hated  most. 

He  reached  Point  Hope  after  a  rapid,  forced 
journey,  and  when  he  met  the  whites  of  the  place 
it  was  as  the  friend  and  rescuer  of  the  five  hun- 
dred men  at  Icy  Cape.  They  no  doubt  remem- 
bered their  first  encounter,  when  they  had  fired  on 
him  at  Black  Joe's  request,  and  the  white  men 
felt  ashamed;  but  Sakhawachiak  did  not  allude  to 
it:  what  was  the  use  of  raking  up  old  scores  that 
were  best  forgotten?  He  had  chosen  his  line: 
to  help  where  help  was  needed,  whether  the  needy 
were  natives  or  whites. 

He  delivered  his  letters,  and  two  days  later 
ten  sledges  started  for  the  north  with  medicine, 
vegetables  and  as  much  food  as  could  be  sent — 
relief  for  the  time  being;  but  the  same  day  Sakha- 
wachiak drove  out  across  Kotzebue  Sound,  while 
Douglamana  and  the  child  were  left  behind  with 
her  family;  for  now  the  journey  must  be  a  hard 
and  rapid  one,  if  the  message  was  to  reach  the 
white  men's  country  in  time. 

With  a  convoy  of  six  sledges  he  headed  out- 
ward, away  from  land,  and  disappeared  in  the 
distance;  but  three  days  later  the  Eskimos  on  the 
south  coast  of  the  Sound  saw  a  strange  sight:  a 
procession  of  sledges  approaching  from  the  north 
across  the  ice — a  reckless  adventure,  the  act  of  a 
madman — but  it  saved  time  and  the  long  way 


198        Frozen  Justice 

round :  Sakhawachiak  had  risked  it  and  had  come 
through. 

With  his  best  dogs  harnessed  to  three  of  the 
sledges  he  went  overland  to  Port  Clarence. 
There  he  met  several  white  men,  who  read  the 
letters  from  their  brothers  in  the  north  and 
looked  in  astonishment  at  the  tall,  slim  Eskimo 
who  had  defied  all  dangers  and  made  the  impos- 
sible possible — delivering  a  message  so  far  south 
ten  days  after  receiving  it  at  Icy  Cape. 

But  this  was  not  the  end  of  the  journey;  after 
a  night's  rest  in  a  white  man's  house,  where  he 
was  treated  as  the  friend  of  the  whites,  he  dashed 
on  again  towards  the  south,  accompanied  by  their 
best  musher,  and  came  out  on  to  the  great  Norton 
Sound. 

Once  more  the  trail  was  across  the  ice,  at  a 
headlong  tearing  pace,  and  twenty  days  after 
Sakhawachiak  had  given  his  hand  to  Captain 
Smith  on  the  promise  of  help,  he  stood  in  the 
sheriff's  house  at  St.  Michael  and  told  his  story 
of  distress. 

The  telegraph  did  the  rest:  it  ticked  out  a 
message  to  the  south,  to  San  Francisco:  "An 
Eskimo  arrived  from  Icy  Cape  after  desperate 
forced  journey  with  news  that  whaling  fleet  is 
caught  in  ice.  Five  hundred  men  starving  and 
attacked  by  scurvy,  will  die  unless  help  comes." 

The  men  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire  were 


Frozen  Justice        199 

quick  to  act;  they  would  not  shame  the  Eskimo's 
exertions.  The  answer  came  back:  "Customs 
steamer  Corzvin  leaving  Unalaska  and  if  ice 
allows  will  call  St.  Michael  for  provisions  and 
medicine.  Thence  she  will  proceed  as  far  as  ice 
permits  and  when  further  progress  with  ship  be- 
comes impossible  boats  will  proceed  northward. 
Tell  Eskimo  to  wait,  Captain  Hobson  will  take 
him  as  pilot." 

Two  months  and  a  half  later  the  crews  of  the 
whaling  fleet  saw  a  line  of  boats  working  their 
way  northward  in  the  land  water.  In  the  bow  of 
the  leading  boat,  a  steam  pinnace,  stood  an 
Eskimo  ...  he  nodded — straight  ahead — and 
straddled  a  little  to  keep  his  feet  when  the  pinnace 
collided  with  ice;  but  he  kept  on  nodding — keep 
on  your  course,  full  speed  ahead!  and  at  its  best 
speed  the  little  craft  darted  past  the  land  ice,  in 
the  open  fairway  between  that  and  the  drift-ice. 
Then  he  held  up  his  hand — the  engine  stopped: 
"There,  Hobson,  you  do  the  rest;  we're  there!" 

Help  had  come,  brought  by  Sakhawachiak. 
Fifty  men  had  died  in  the  meantime,  but  the 
greater  part  of  the  crews  were  saved — saved  by 
Sakhawachiak,  the  man  who  hated  the  whites. 

He  would  not  hear  of  reward,  nor  even  of 
thanks.  He  gripped  the  hand  of  James  Smith, 
now  down  with  scurvy,  when  he  went  aboard  the 
Narwhale.     "You  helped  me  when  I  was  in  a 


200        Frozen  Justice 

fix — now  it  was  my  turn  to  help  you.  You  are 
bound  south  and  I  north,  but  if  ever  you  meet 
Black  Joe,  tell  him  that  if  he  comes  here  I'll  kill 
him." 

In  the  following  year  Sakhawachiak  reached 
Nuwuk  and  settled  there,  but  he  did  not  stay 
long.  He  hankered  after  the  free,  unfettered 
life  that  the  Eskimos  had  led  before  ever  the 
white  men  came;  he  was  well  enough  off,  but 
could  not  feel  at  ease  where  white  men  lived.  Of 
religion  he  would  not  hear,  holding  himself  more 
and  more  aloof;  and  one  summer,  when  the 
whaling  fleet  anchored  off  Nuwuk  and  James 
Smith  hurried  ashore  to  greet  his  friend,  he  found 
the  iglo  empty.  Sakhawachiak  and  Douglamana 
were  gone,  away  to  the  eastward,  to  places  where 
he  could  live  in  peace  and  bring  up  his  boys  to  be 
great  hunters,  without  fear  of  the  demoralization 
which  follows  in  the  white  men's  footsteps. 


X 


SAKHAWACHIAK  made  his  home  on  a 
little  island,  far  to  the  east  of  Nuwuk, 
and  lived  there  with  Douglamana  and  his 
two  boys.  He  lived  as  the  Eskimos  had  lived  be- 
fore white  men  came  to  the  country  and  settled 
there,  he  trained  his  boys  to  hunting  and  sport, 
as  he,  his  father  and  his  grandfather  before  him 
had  been  trained — to  look  after  themselves,  to 
live  on  what  the  country  afforded,  never  depend- 
ing on  the  white  men's  assistance. 

When  the  winter  storms  howled  over  the  is- 
land, or  in  summer  when  the  sea  was  open  and 
free  of  ice,  he  went  hunting  seal,  walrus  and  bear; 
but  in  spring,  when  the  sun  had  gained  powe£  and 
there  was  warmth  in  the  air,  when  the  worst  of 
the  winter's  snow  had  melted  and  moss  and  lichen 
appeared  on  the  ground,  he  moved  southward 
with  his  family,  across  the  narrow  sound  that  sep- 
arated his  island  from  the  mainland,  and  hunted 
reindeer,  which  came  down  in  great  herds  to  the 
wide  tundras  that  extend  from  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  right  out  to  the  coast — vast  stretches 
of  country  that  can  harbour  countless  animals. 

His  winter  iglo  was  large  and  roomy,  built  of 
201 


202        Frozen  Justice 

the  driftwood  that  lay  heaped  up  along  the  coast 
in  immense  quantities — trees  that  had  grown  far 
up  in  Alaska  but  in  times  of  sudden  thaw  had 
been  uprooted  by  foaming  masses  of  water  and 
washed  into  the  river,  on  whose  broad  back  they 
had  slowly  floated  out  to  the  polar  sea;  once  there 
some  drifted  eastward,  while  the  rest,  by  far  the 
larger  part,  drifted  to  the  west,  carried  along  by 
the  current  and  cast  ashore  by  frequent  storms,  to 
become  an  inexhaustible  store  of  fuel  for  the 
natives  of  the  coast. 

His  summer  tent  stood  not  far  from  the  iglo, 
on  the  highest  ground  in  the  island,  whence  there 
was  a  view  over  the  sea  and  the  drift-ice — ideal 
summer  quarters  for  a  hunter;  everything  could 
be  seen  from  it. 

Away  to  the  east  lay  the  low  coast  of  Alaska, 
built  up  of  ice,  thousands  of  years  old,  but  now 
covered  over  with  earth,  fertile  and  green.  To 
the  south — across  the  narrow  sound — he  saw  the 
tundra,  and  beyond,  far  inland,  the  mountains, 
softened  by  distance  but  high  and  jagged,  their 
tops  covered  with  ice  and  snow  that  almost 
melted  into  the  colour  of  the  sky.  But  when  the 
sun  was  in  the  east  or  to  the  north  of  west  its 
rays  fell  on  the  north  side  of  the  range,  giving 
profundity  to  the  mountains,  making  them  living 
and  near;  ravines  showed  up  sharp  and  clear  on 
their  slopes,  spurs  became  prominent,  the  chain 


Frozen  Justice        203 

dissolved  into  separate  mountains,  divided  from 
each  other  by  deep  and  winding  river  valleys. 
The  sun  played  over  the  whole  scene,  giving  life 
and  colour  to  the  huge  rocky  giants,  which  flushed 
deeply  in  the  rays  of  its  rising  or  setting;  then 
everything  became  tinged  with  a  soft  pink,  and 
even  the  sheer  mountainsides,  rising  grim  and 
dark  amid  all  the  white,  took  on  a  friendly  air. 

To  the  westward  lay  island  upon  island  in  a 
long,  straight  line,  low  and  flat,  most  of  them  only 
sand  but  with  occasional  green  herbage;  these 
were  a  favourite  breeding^place  of  migratory 
birds,  which  came  from  the  country  to  the  south 
and  hurried  past  inhabited  places  in  order  to 
settle  where  there  were  neither  men  nor  foxes, 
where  they  could  mate  in  peace,  hatch  their  eggs 
and  teach  their  young  the  art  of  flying,  before 
the  days  shortened  and  grew  dark  and  the  time 
for  their  southward  flight  came  round  again. 

Thus  lived  Sakhawachiak,  far  from  Nuwuk 
and  far  from  Herschel  Island,  which  was  a  place 
specially  frequented  by  the  whalers.  But  he 
often  heard  news  both  from  east  and  west  of  the 
white  men's  sway  over  the  country — how  station 
after  station  was  established  on  the  coast — and 
saw  the  realization  of  his  fears:  the  Eskimos 
were  becoming  more  and  more  the  hirelings  of 
the  white  men. 

It  happened  now  and  then  that  umiaks  put  in 


204        Frozen  Justice 

on  their  way  from  Nuwuk  or  Herschel  Island,  or 
even  whaling-boats  owned  by  natives,  who  were 
rapidly  forgetting  the  art  of  building  the  light 
and  handy  skin-boats.  Pale,  sickly-looking  Es- 
kimos would  then  visit  Sakhawachiak's  hospitable 
tent;  they  talked  half  like  the  whites,  whose 
customs,  but  chiefly  whose  vices,  they  had  adop- 
ted; all  that  was  bad  they  had  learnt,  but  not 
much  of  what  was  good.  They  had  bartered 
themselves  for  the  white  men's  weapons  and 
food,  and  cheerfully  paid  the  price :  ruin  and  de- 
pendence. Now  they  were  a  miserable  race,  who 
would  perish  if  their  white  masters  left  the  coun- 
try,— a  race  dependent,  accustomed  to  idleness 
and  debauchery,  for  the  most  part  kept  by  their 
women,  who  lived  a  life  of  careless  ease  when  the 
whaling  fleet  was  in,  but  starved  and  suffered 
want  when  it  was  away — a  wretched  people,  with 
children  half  white,  half  native,  with  the  worst 
instincts  of  both. 

Sakhawachiak  conversed  with  his  countrymen, 
but  felt  relieved  when  they  left  again;  then  he 
would  shake  his  head  and  rejoice  that  he  lived 
there  on  his  island,  far  from  the  whites,  from 
their  life  and  their  influence,  in  a  place  where 
only   its    remote    reverberations    reached   him. 

And  when  the  whaling-fleet  sailed  by  on  its  way 
east,  he  followed  with  his  eyes  the  dark  hulls  and 
tall,  slender  masts.     It  always  made  him  uneasy 


Frozen  Justice        205 

when  they  came — who  could  tell  whether  they 
would  choose  that  very  spot  for  their  quarters 
and  force  him  to  move  away  once  more?  But 
only  rarely  did  they  anchor  off  his  island;  it  was 
inconvenient  for  the  whaling,  there  was  nothing 
to  be  done  there,  not  even  trading;  so  they  sailed 
on  to  better  hunting  grounds. 

But  there  were  some  ships  which  stopped, 
among  them  one  that  was  even  welcome,  namely 
the  Narwhale  II,  commanded  by  Captain  James 
Smith.  He  never  sailed  by  without  anchoring; 
a  boat  would  be  lowered,  laden  with  white  men's 
provisions,  and  rowed  to  the  shore  with  James 
Smith  in  the  stern  sheets.  The  provisions  were 
an  annual  gift  to  Sakhawachiak  from  the  friend 
he  had  helped  at  Icy  Cape,  and  from  others  in 
the  fleet,  who  had  never  forgotten  the  service 
he  had  rendered  them  that  spring,  when  they 
were  frozen  in  the  ice  and  dying  of  hunger  and 
scurvy. 

There  was  rejoicing  ashore  when  Smith  paid 
them  a  visit;  Sakhawachiak  felt  a  real  friendship 
for  him:  he  was  one  of  the  few  whites  on  whom 
he  could  blindly  depend.  But  the  whaling  season 
is  short;  there  is  not  much  time  for  palavering 
when  the  fleet  is  outward  bound;  and  after  the 
boat  was  unloaded  and  Smith  had  given  Doug- 
lamana  and  the  boys  each  a  special  present,  he 
rowed  back  to  his   ship,   weighed   anchor   and 


206        Frozen  Justice 

headed  eastward  with  a  blast  of  the  whistle  and 
a  dip  of  the  flag — the  sole  link  between  Sakha- 
wachiak's  past  and  present. 

And  there,  on  Flaxman  Island,  far  from  the 
white  men,  Sakhawachiak  lived  for  many  a  year, 
and  became  an  elderly  man. 

One  autumn  day  he  was  returning  from  a 
hunting  expedition.  The  sun  was  shining,  the 
sea  was  blue,  it  was  warm  and  Sakhawachiak 
was  happy,  as  he  sat  in  the  stern  of  his  umiak, 
which,  deep-laden  with  skins  and  meat  and 
household  utensils  of  all  sorts,  hastened  west- 
ward, bound  for  Flaxman  Island,  for  home,  with 
his  whole  family,  his  world,  on  board. 

Sakhawachiak  was  glad  to  be  approaching  his 
island — there  he  felt  at  home  and  secure  from  the 
whites — their  hunting  grounds  were  now  much 
farther  to  the  eastward;  he  need  never  fear  that 
they  would  come  here  and  drive  him  away  from 
the  refuge  he  had  found  years  ago.  No,  all  was 
well  now;  he  had  found  the  peace  and  calm  for 
which  he  had  always  yearned. 

But  when  he  rounded  the  point  his  eyes 
stiffened  into  a  fixed  gaze;  he  felt  a  stab  at  his 
heart:  was  his  peace  only  a  dream?  For  under 
the  lee  of  the  island,  in  the  narrow  strip  of  water, 
lay  a  schooner,  and  his  practised  eye  told  him  at 
once  that  she  was  not  making  a  passage  like  all 
the  other  ships  he  had  seen  in  the  course  of  years. 


Frozen  Justice        207 


No,  she  had  come  to  stay:  the  sails  were  unbent, 
the  vessel  was  covered  with  canvas  from  stem  to 
stern  .  .  .  was  he  really  to  be  driven  away  again, 
to  look  for  another  refuge  from  the  white  man? 

He  lowered  his  sail  in  silence  and  paddled  the 
umiak  up  to  the  shore,  made  it  fast  and  began  to 
carry  the  load  on  land.  He  worked  himself  into 
a  sweat,  but  his  thoughts  were  farther  west,  on 
board  the  schooner — who  was  it,  what  did  they 
want  here,  was  his  peace  really  at  an  end? 

On  board  the  schooner  they  had  seen  the  umiak 
come  heading  round  the  eastern  point  of  the  is- 
land and  were  pleased,  as  the  vessel  had  come  to 
stay  and  the  crew  were  glad  to  see  Eskimos  on 
the  island — something  to  enliven  the  coming  win- 
ter, people  from  whom  they  could  buy  meat  and 
skins. 

Sakhawachiak  did  not  go  near  the  white  men; 
if  they  had  anything  to  say  to  him,  they  knew 
where  to  find  him,  for  he  could  see  that  they  had 
been  near  his  house,  their  tracks  were  plain 
enough :  not  far  from  it  they  had  been  digging  in 
the  earth,  deep  holes — extraordinary  white  folk, 
what  were  they  after  now? 

A  couple  of  days  after  his  return,  just  as  his 
winter  iglo  had  been  put  in  order  and  he  had 
moved  into  it,  he  heard  footsteps  outside,  the 
door  was  pushed  open,  and  there  in  the  opening 
stood  two  white  men. 


208        Frozen  Justice 

They  smiled.  "Good  day,"  they  said  in  the 
white  man's  language;  "may  we  come  in?"  And 
Sakhawachiak  nodded  silently:  better  get  it  over 
at  once. 

The  white  men  sat  down  and  spoke  a  great 
many  words  which  he  did  not  understand,  but 
Douglamana  put  the  cooking-pot  on  the  fire  and 
offered  the  white  men  food.  They  joined  in  the 
meal  and  laughed — queer  folk;  they  were  white, 
and  yet  different  from  any  Sakhawachiak  had 
come  across  before.  Strangest  of  all,  they  did 
not  speak  a  word  of  his  language,  so  they  could 
not  be  traders  in  furs. 

By  signs  they  made  him  understand  that  they 
wanted  him  to  go  with  them  on  board,  and  accom- 
panied by  Douglamana  and  the  boys  they  all  went 
out  to  the  schooner — Sakhawachiak  all  the  time 
wondering  at  the  strangers. 

And  the  ship  was  different  from  the  usual  whal- 
ing vessels  or  trading  schooners.  The  cabin  was 
large  and  roomy,  and  there  were  strange  instru- 
ments everywhere,  shelves  full  of  books,  pictures 
too,  and  in  one  corner  lay  skins  of  the  common- 
est animals  of  the  country,  which  had  been  care- 
fully taken  off  but  were  of  no  value  for  trading. 

There  was  a  man  forward  who  could  talk  a 
little  Eskimo;  he  was  fetched  aft,  and  from  him 
Sakhawachiak  learnt  something  about  these  cur- 
ious white  men. 


Frozen  Justice        209 

Not  whaling,  not  trading,  not  buying  skins,  not 
doing  anything — such  was  the  information  he 
received  from  the  whites'  linguistic  expert. 
Looking  for  land — sledge -journeys — many  days, 
much  meat — was  the  next  that  he  learnt  about 
the  white  men's  intentions;  and  that  was  the  end 
of  it,  the  vocabulary  was  exhausted.  But  round 
him  sat  men  reading  big  books,  and  they  laughed 
and  spoke  words — Eskimo  words,  strangely  clip- 
ped, without  meaning  or  connection,  something 
they  found  in  the  white  men's  books. 

Sakhawachiak  began  to  feel  calmer;  these  were 
different  whites  from  those  he  had  met  before, 
they  could  certainly  do  him  no  harm;  and  he 
stayed  a  long  time  on  board:  there  was  so  much 
that  was  new  and  that  he  had  never  seen  in  any 
whaling  vessel. 

When  he  left  the  schooner  in  the  evening,  he, 
Douglamana  and  the  boys  received  presents — 
without  something  being  required  in  return — and 
the  two  men  whom  he  regarded  as  the  skipper 
and — well,  what  could  the  other  be?  mate 
he  evidently  was  not — almost  another  skipper 
(but  who  ever  saw  two  skippers  in  one 
ship?) — invited  him  to  come  again  and  to 
come  soon. 

That  night  Douglamana  and  Sakhawachiak  got 
no  sleep :  they  were  discussing  the  white  men — 
these  extraordinary  people  who  had  come  to  their 


210        Frozen  Justice 

island  and  who  did  not  want  to  trade  or  to  go 
after  whale,  but  only  to  buy  meat;  they  were  not 
going  to  do  anything  useful,  but  look  for  land — 
what  land?  The  natives  could  not  make  it  out 
at  all;  Sakhawachiak  had  never  met  whites  of 
this  sort.  What  did  these  people  want — surely 
they  could  not  be  missionaries? 

Before  long  however,  Sakhawachiak  under- 
stood enough  of  the  white  men's  ways  to  make  it 
clear  to  him  that  they  were  not  missionaries,  but 
intended  to  go  northward  over  the  ice — over  the 
pack-ice,  the  terrible  drifting  ice  which  had 
claimed  so  many  of  his  race.  He  could  not 
rightly  understand  what  they  wanted  to  do  there, 
but  that  was  the  white  men's  own  affair  and  did 
not  concern  him;  he  could  only  be  glad  that  they 
wanted  to  go  out  into  the  pack-ice — he  would  be 
rid  of  them  all  the  sooner,  no  one  ever  came  back 
from  there. 

Winter  wore  on  and  Sakhawachiak  became 
good  friends  with  the  white  men  on  board  the 
schooner,  especially  the  two  who  had  first  visited 
him — the  two  skippers.  One  was  called  Mr. 
Hodley,  the  other — well,  it  was  a  difficult  word, 
his  tongue  couldn't  manage  it — the  Eskimos 
called  him  Migi. 

Sakhawachiak's  fear  of  the  whites  had  quite 
disappeared:  there  was  nothing  dangerous  about 
these,  and  when  he  had  once  realized  that,  he 


Frozen  Justice        211 

helped  them  in  every  way,  became  a  frequent  and 
welcome  guest  on  board,  and  in  the  winter,  when 
gales  tore  over  the  land,  he  often  sat  bending 
over  big  charts  down  in  the  cabin  with  his  friends, 
who  spoke  his  language  by  now — more  or  less, 
anyhow. 

He  knew  that  they  were  out  "on  an  expedi- 
tion," but  what  that  was  he  had  no  very  clear  no- 
tion; it  was  something  about  finding  something — 
but  that  was  their  concern;  he  liked  his  new 
friends  and  was  sorry  when  he  saw  them  go  out 
across  the  ice. 

Many  and  long  were  the  conversations  in 
which  he  had  warned  Mr.  Hodley  and  Migi 
against  the  rash  undertaking:  they  would  never 
come  back  to  land  again — at  any  rate  not  to  his 
land,  though  possibly  to  the  land  away  in  the 
north,  where  it  was  warm  and  game  was  plentiful 
and  the  people  so  hospitable — but  what  was  the 
good  of  reaching  that  land,  when  they  could 
never  come  back  and  tell  about  it? —  Foolhardy 
whites,  let  them  listen  to  his  advice  and  not  go ! 

But  they  went,  and  they  came  back. 

Land  they  had  not  found,  but  on  the  contrary 
water,  deep  water,  and  the  white  men  were  quite 
pleased  about  it.  Strange  white  men,  they  were 
easily  pleased!     What  profit  was  there  in  water? 

Their  schooner  had  been  crushed  in  the  ice  in 
the  course  of  the  winter,  and  when  the  whalers 


212        Frozen  Justice 

came  by  they  took  the  whole  crew  off — all  but 
Hodley  and  Migi,  who  were  a  long  way  to  the 
eastward  when  the  fleet  arrived;  so  when  winter 
came  on  again  these  two  were  alone. 

One  day  Migi  came  up  to  Sakhawachiak. 
"Look  here,  I'm  going  home  now,  there's  nothing 
more  for  me  to  do.  Mr.  Hodley  is  going  up 
into  the  mountains,  and  as  soon  as  the  ice  is  safe 
I  shall  sledge  over  to  Nuwuk  and  from  there 
down  the  coast  to  the  white  men's  country." 

Sakhawachiak  looked  downcast:  "Migi,  my 
friend,  stay  here;  the  way  is  long."  But  no, 
Migi  had  decided  to  leave,  and  Sakhawachiak 
knew  him  well  enough  to  see  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  dissuade  him. 

A  couple  of  days  later  he  came  down  to  the 
hut  which  the  white  men  had  built  out  of  the 
wreck.  "Listen,  Migi,  are  you  really  going 
away?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  "I'm  going  as  soon  as  I 
can  get  ready  and  the  ice  is  safe." 

For    a    long   time    Sakhawachiak    was    silent. 
Then:    "Tell   me,    down   in   your  country   there 
must  be   old   people   like   there   are   here  .   .  . 
what  do  the  old  people  do,  if  they  have  no  chil- 
dren to  work  for  them  and  get  them  food?" 

"Starve,"  answered  the  white  man  without 
hesitation — "unless  they  have  saved  money  to 
buy  food  with  when   they  get  old.     Sakhawa- 


Frozen  Justice        213 


chiak,  our  country  is  not  nearly  so  good  as  yours. 
Here,  if  there  is  food  to  be  had,  the  old  people 
do  not  suffer  want,  but  with  us  people  die  of 
starvation  if  they  have  no  money." 

Sakhawachiak  made  no  answer,  but  sat  gazing 
in  front  of  him;  his  fine  brown  eyes  saw  nothing 
— he  was  lost  in  thought,  and  Migi  saw  that 
great  problems  were  working  in  his  brain. 

"That's  not  right,"  exclaimed  Sakhawachiak 
all  at  once;  "it's  a  shame!  when  people  get  old 
they  ought  to  have  food,  even  if  they  have  no 
money.  .  .  .  Where  will  you  strike  the  white 
men's  country?" 

"At  Candle,"  replied  Migi,  sitting  down. 
"Sakhawachiak,  my  friend,  what  have  you  got  on 
your  mind?" — for  it  was  clear  to  the  white  man 
that  something  more  than  curiosity  prompted 
the  Eskimo's  questions. 

"Listen  to  me,"  Sakhawachiak  began  again 
at  last;  "you  know  Doug^amana  is  my  woman 
and  I  am  good  to  her.  Rut  now  I'm  going  to 
tell  you  something  that  I've  not  talked  about 
for  many  years,  something  that  I've  almost  for- 
gotten. You  see,  when  I  was  young  I  had  an- 
other woman;  she  was  called  Igluruk  and  she  was 
so  beautiful,  but  she  was  no  good  for  anything. 
The  white  men  took  a  fancy  to  her,  and  it  was 
a  white  who  took  her  away  from  me.  He  was 
called  Black  Joe.     I  was  very  fond  of  Igluruk, 


214        Frozen  Justice 


and  when  I  heard  she  was  living  with  a  white  man 
I  got  mad.  He  ran  away,  she  went  with  him, 
but  I  have  since  heard  that  she's  living  at  Candle. 
She  is  old  now" — Sakhawachiak  continued  his 
monologue — "and  I  don't  think  she  has  money. 
She  can't  work,  she  never  could  do  that,  so  she  is 
sure  not  to  have  earned  anything;  I  don't  want 
her  to  starve,  for  she  was  once  my  woman  and 
I  was  fond  of  her.  I  should  like  to  get  her  up 
here,  even  though  she  has  wronged  me." 

uYes,  but,  Sakhawachiak,"  Migi  interrupted 
in  astonishment,  "you've  got  Douglamana — 
what  does  she  say  to  this?  Will  she  agree  to 
having  a  second  wife  here  in  her  old  age,  and  can 
you  feed  two  women?" 

"I  have  talked  to  Douglamana  about  it," 
Sakhawachiak  continued  slowly  and  calmly;  ushe 
thinks  as  I  do.  We  are  sorry  for  Igluruk,  hav- 
ing to  live  down  there  among  the  whites,  suffer- 
ing hunger  and  want,  when  she  might  come  up 
here  and  live  with  us ;  and  now  that  the  boys  are 
getting  big  they  can  help  in  the  hunting.  I  can 
manage  to  feed  two  women,  and  even  if  we  do 
go  short  sometimes,  we  have  felt  the  pinch  be- 
fore and  we  shall  get  over  it  ....  I  have  not 
thought  about  Igluruk  for  a  long,  long  time," 
Sakhawachiak  went  on,  "it  was  only  when  you 
began  to  talk  about  going  down  to  the  white 
men's  country  that  the  thought  of  her  came  into 


Frozen  Justice        215 

my  head.  I  have  hated  her  and  tried  to  kill  her, 
but  by  degrees  my  feelings  have  softened.  I 
myself  have  once  starved,  and  I  know  how  hard 
it  is;  and  I  don't  want  her  to  suffer,  if  I  can  help 
her.  She  was  young  and  happy — once;  and  now 
that  I  have  grown  old  I  can  better  understand 
her  preferring  a  white  man  to  me;  he  could  do 
many  things  that  I  could  not,  just  such  things  as 
women  like.  And  she  had  a  white  father  too," 
he  added  gently;  "Perhaps  she  was  more  white 
than  Eskimo." 

"Listen  here,  Sakhawachiak,"  said  Migi  earn- 
estly; "consider  this  well.  Igluruk  has  behaved 
badly  to  you,  whatever  the  reason  may  have  been; 
she  ran  away  from  you  with  another  man  and 
now  she  has  been  living  a  long  time  in  the  white 
men's  country.  She  was  not  good  for  much  be- 
fore— and  down  there  she  won't  have  learnt  any- 
thing good,  so  now  she  is  less  use  than  ever. 
You  are  happy  with  Douglamana,  and  even  if 
she  is  willing  to  have  Igluruk  here  living  with 
you,  it's  not  an  easy  life  to  have  two  women  in  the 
same  iglo.  There'll  be  trouble,  Sakhawachiak; 
the  peace  you  have  looked  for  and  have  found 
at  last  will  vanish.  Give  up  the  idea;  forget 
Igluruk." 

"But  perhaps  she  is  starving,"  said  Sakhawa- 
chiak quietly;  "perhaps  too  she  is  longing  for 
her  own  country,  as  I  did  when  I  was  living  at 


216       Frozen  Justice 

Point  Hope.  No,  I'll  have  her  up  here,  if  it  can 
be  done.     Will  you  take  some  skins  for  her?" 

"Yes,"  said  Migi,  "I  will,  and  I'll  help  her  as 
well  as  I  can ;  but  I  think  it  is  foolish  of  you  to 
want  to  get  Igluruk  up  here — let  that  plan  alone. 
Give  me  what  skins  you  can  spare,  and  I'll  sell 
them  when  I  arrive  at  the  place  where  she  lives; 
on  that  money  she  will  be  able  to  live  comfort- 
ably;' 

"But  not  for  long,"  Sakhawachiak  said  under 
his  breath;  "she'll  spend  it  at  once.  No,  let  her 
come  here,  then  I  will  look  after  her  for  the  rest 
of  her  life.  Promise  me  you  will  help  her,"  he 
begged  earnestly. 

"You  have  time  to  think  it  over,  Sakhawachiak, 
don't  do  anything  hasty,"  the  white  man  admon- 
ished him;  "I  will  help  where  I  can,  but  only  on 
condition  that  Douglamana  comes  to  me  herself 
and  says  she  will  have  Iglui*uk  here.  I  daren't 
do  it  otherwise." 

They  sat  a  long  while  talking,  Sakhawachiak 
more  and  more  earnestly  as  the  recollection  of  his 
former  woman  became  more  vivid,  and  Migi 
still  trying  to  dissuade  him;  but  all  to  no  purpose 
— Sakhawachiak  stuck  to  his  guns,  and  when  at 
last  he  went  home,  he  promised  to  come  next  day 
with  Douglamana. 

Migi  waited  in  suspense — was  it  really  possible 


Frozen  Justice        217 

that  the  Eskimo  woman  would  allow  her  old 
husband  to  take  back  his  first  woman?  Would 
she  agree  to  a  rival  wife  in  her  old  age?  Could 
she  face  the  inevitable  quarreling  and  dissensions 
which  would  be  the  result — simply  in  order  that 
the  husband,  Sakhawachiak,  might  win  peace  of 
mind  and  do  what  he  thought  was  right?  But 
no  sooner  was  it  light  than  Sakhawachiak  came, 
and  Douglamana  with  him. 

'Well,"  asked  Migi,  "have  you  changed  your 
mind?" 

Silent  and  serious  the  old  folks  sat  looking 
at  the  white  man;  then  Sakhawachiak  shook  his 
head:  "No,  we  will  look  after  her.  You  speak, 
Douglamana — let  Migi  hear  what  you  have  to 
say." 

"Yes,  Migi" — it  was  Douglamana  who  spoke 
— "I  wish  what  Sakhawachiak  wishes.  It  is  a 
long  time  ago  that  he  knew  Igluruk,  he  has 
children  by  me,  and  however  things  turn  out,  I 
shall  still  be  his  best  woman.  We  talked  it 
over  before  Sakhawachiak  spoke  to  you — I  wish 
the  same  as  he." 

They  were  not  to  be  shaken  in  their  decision 
— Migi  might  talk  as  long  as  he  liked  about  the 
mistake  of  having  two  women  in  the  same  house. 
The  Eskimos  stuck  to  their  point,  and  with  a 
heavy  heart  he  gave  his  promise  to  take  skins  and 


218        Frozen  Justice 

furs  with  him  to  Candle,  sell  them  for  the  best 
price  he  could  get  and  spend  the  money  on  buy- 
ing a  sledge  and  dogs  for  Igluruk. 

It  was  a  relief  when  the  promise  had  been 
given.  "I  depend  upon  you,"  were  Sakhawa- 
chiak's  last  words  before  he  and  his  woman  left 
the  house  and  walked  side  by  side  to  their  own 
iglo.  But  Migi  stood  in  the  doorway  looking 
after  the  couple.  .  .  .  He  was  thinking  .  .  . 
who  would  have  done  this,  except  this  Eskimo? 
what  others  could  forgive  as  he  had  done? — and 
what  woman  would  have  stood  by  her  husband 
in  a  case  like  this,  except  this  same  Dougla- 
mana? 

And  Migi  looked  after  the  elderly  couple  and 
thought  of  the  future,  when  three  would  walk 
there  instead  of  two.  Sakhawachiak  in  the 
middle,  Douglamana,  splendid,  capable  Dougla- 
mana  on  one  side,  and  Igluruk,  ruined,  perhaps 
pampered,  incapable,  on  the  other.  What 
would  Sakhawachiak  think  then?  Would  the 
peace  and  calm  that  had  settled  on  that  once 
troubled  spirit  continue?' — or  would  it  vanish 
and  leave  him  in  deeper  sorrow  than  before? 

When  preparations  for  the  journey  were 
begun,  Sakhawachiak  and  Douglamana  came 
bringing  skins  and  furs,  the  best  they  had;  and 
when  the  day  of  departure  dawned,  the  two  old 
people  came  down  to  Migi's  hut.     They  did  not 


Frozen  Justice        219 

say  much — silently  they  went  about  watching 
their  friend's  preparations  for  the  journey, 
helping  quietly  where  they  could;  and  when  at 
last  the  sledge  was  ready  and  the  dogs  leapt  for- 
ward impatiently  in  the  traces,  Douglamana  came 
up  with  a  little  leather  bag. 

"Take  this  too,  Migi,"  she  said;  "there  is  a 
fur  in  it  which  I  made  up  to  wear  myself  next 
winter.  It  is  good  and  warm,  give  it  to  Igluruk; 
the  journey  is  long  and  cold,  she  is  sure  to  need 
warm  clothing,  and,"  she  added  with  tears  and  a 
smile  in  her  eyes,  "Sakhawachiak  says  she  didn't 
know  how  to  make  clothes  in  those  days — and 
perhaps  she  has  not  learnt  since." 

With  the  charitable  gift  lashed  fast  on  the  top 
of  the  load  Migi  set  out.  He  cracked  his  long 
whip,  a  short,  sharp  "Mush"  rang  out  in  the  still 
frosty  air,  the  sledge  creaked  in  all  its  lashings, 
the  dogs  leapt  forward — the  journey  had  begun, 
a  thousand  miles'  trip.  But  behind  him  on  Flax- 
man  Island  stood  Sakhawachiak  and  Dougla- 
mana, two  sharp  outlines  against  the  clear  morn- 
ing sky — waving  and  shouting  good-bye.  The 
white  man  turned  and  waved  back,  while  his 
thoughts  pictured  a  scene  six  months  ahead — 
then  perhaps  they  would  stand  there  again,  close 
to  each  other  on  the  same  rise  of  ground,  watch- 
ing a  sledge  slowly  and  laboriously  making  its 
way  eastward — bringing  Igluruk. 


220        Frozen  Justice 

Months  went  by.  Migi  drove  slowly  along  the 
coast,  met  white  men  and  natives,  talked  to 
all  he  met.  The  subject  was  usually  Sakhawa- 
chiak:  everybody  knew  his  name,  most  of  them 
knew  his  story — and  Igluruk's.  Still  more  knew 
of  his  helping  the  whites  when  they  were  frozen 
in  at  Icy  Cape  and  would  have  died  but  for  Sak- 
hawachiack.  And  Migi  asked  all  the  white  men 
to  help  Igluruk  when  she  came  northward  along 
the  coast;  they  promised  to  do  so  and  would  keep 
their  promise — the  man  who  saved  the  fleet  that 
spring  at  Icy  Cape  had  a  claim  on  all  white 
men — but  they  shook  their  heads:  "Poor  Sak- 
hawachiak!     It  will  never  work." 

On  Christmas  Eve,  nearly  three  months  after 
Migi  had  left  Flaxman  Island,  his  sledge  was 
approaching  Candle.  The  dogs  were  tired,  their 
feet  were  worn,  and  he  was  not  getting  on  fast. 

He  whipped  up  the  dogs,  shouted  and  yelled  at 
them  and  himself  took  the  hauling  strap  and 
pulled  more  than  all  the  animals  together.  He 
was  going  to  get  in  that  night  if  it  was  at  all 
possible;  the  dogs  were  travel-worn,  he  himself 
still  more  so,  and  he  longed  more  than  he  could 
say  for  a  little  rest  and  comfort — even  the  little 
that  Alaska's  most  northerly  gold-mining  town 
could  offer. 

So  he  struggled  on;  the  short  day  had  long 
given  place  to  night,  the  sky  was  studded  with 


Frozen  Justice        221 

thousands  of  stars  which  twinkled  and  shone 
against  its  black  background.  But  ahead  of  him 
were  terrestrial  and  accessible  stars,  which  shone 
from  the  gold-miner's  cabins;  these  interested 
him  more — they  were  the  goal  of  his  journey. 

So  Migi  swung  his  whip  with  joyful,  encourag- 
ing shouts:  "Mush,  come  up,  will  you — we're 
soon  in,  can  sleep  warm  and  soft  tonight!"  And 
the  dogs  seemed  to  understand  that  the  end  of 
the  journey  was  near:  their  driver's  eagerness  to 
get  in  infected  them,  and  the  nearer  they  came  to 
the  town,  the  better  they  pulled.  When  Migi 
drove  his  sledge  round  the  extreme  point  and 
turned  up  the  river,  the  tired  dogs  leapt  forward 
in  the  traces — the  sledge  followed  with  a  jerk, 
and  he  threw  himself  down  on  it,  clutched  it 
firmly,  sat  up,  and  drove  proudly  at  top  speed 
along  the  smooth  ice  of  the  river  towards  the 
town,  now  visible  with  all  its  lights,  full  of  men 
and  dogs.  Houses  stood  on  both  sides  of  the 
road,  people  came  out,  staring  into  the  darkness, 
and  caught  sight  of  a  sledge  that  came  dashing 
past,  drawn  by  ten  excited  dogs  which  had  for- 
gotten all  about  weariness,  hunger  and  sore  feet. 
On  the  top  of  the  load  sat  a  man  swinging  his 
whip  in  exuberant  spirits,  laughing  and  shouting 
to  all  he  passed:  "Good  evening,  stranger  I" — 
and  the  curious  faces  in  the  darkness  smiled  and 
shouted  back   "Good  evening,"   before   turning 


222        Frozen  Justice 

back  into  their  warm  cabins  and  shutting  the 
door — shutting  in  the  blaze  of  light  which  came 
streaming  out  on  to  the  road,  an  incentive  and 
guiding  light  for  Migi. 

They  shrugged  their  shoulders,  all  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  place,  at  this  cheery  sledge-driver; 
they  were  warm  and  well-fed  now,  but  they  had 
known  the  hardships  of  the  trail  and  the  joy  of 
reaching  their  goal.  They  understood  Migi's 
elation  and  sympathized — but  when  the  door 
was  closed  they  grinned  at  each  other  and 
stretched  contentedly —  "Did  you  hear  that 
lunatic  drive  by?  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  tor- 
nado has  struck  Candle  tonight." 

Migi  found  lodging  for  himself  and  his  dogs. 
Strangers  came  and  asked  the  news — bursting 
with  curiosity.  Where  did  he  come  from,  this 
light-hearted  dog-driver? —  What  was  all  the 
noise  about,  what  made  him  so  cheerful? —  But 
when  the  report  spread  up  and  down  the  main 
street  that  the  stranger  came  from  the  north, 
all  the  way  from  Flaxman  Island,  there  was  a 
moment's  silence.  These  traveled  people 
looked  at  each  other — my  word !  And  questions 
began  to  whirl  about — why? — what  brings  him 
here  in  the  middle  of  winter? — has  he  found 
gold  up  there? 

Next  day,  after  he  had  had  a  glorious  night  and 


Frozen  Justice       223 

slept  like  the  dead,  in  a  real  bed,  Migi  called 
on  the  sheriff  and  inquired  for  Igluruk. 

"Igluruk?"  this  personage  answered  slowly, 
considering.     "Who  is  she?     I  don't  know  her." 

Migi  was  discouraged.  If  she  was  not  here, 
where  was  she?  Was  he  going  to  disappoint  his 
friend,  old  Sakhawachiak,  who  was  expecting  his 
first  woman,  away  up  in  the  north? 

"Think  again,"  he  said  to  the  sheriff.  "She 
came  here  some  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago,  an 
Eskimo  woman  who  had  run  away  from  Point 
Barrow  with  a  white — a  man  called  Black  Joe — 
now  do  you  know  her?"  But  the  sheriff  shook 
his  head:  "You've  come  to  the  wrong  place,  my 
friend;  there's  no  woman  here  called  Igluruk." 

But  suddenly  an  idea  struck  him.  "Aha, 
stranger,  do  you  mean  Sweet  Mary?"  and  he 
winked  one  eye  and  laughed.  "So  it's  her !  Yes, 
she's  often  visited  by  men  who  come  off  the  trail 
— but  I  must  say  it's  the  first  time  I've  been  asked 
in  my  official  capacity  for  her  address.  Young 
man,  you  take  my  advice  and  keep  away  from 
her." 

"Why?"  asked  Migi  sharply. 

"Why?  oh  well  .  .  .  because  .  .  .  however, 
that's  your  affair,  you  can  do  as  you  please,  I 
only  gave  you  a  friendly  piece  of  advice.  But 
now  you  mention  her  name,  I  seem  to  remember 


224        Frozen  Justice 

it,  and  I  guess  there  was  something  shady  about 
that  story.  She  came  here  before  my  time,  but 
some  of  the  older  hands  here  had  a  story  about 
a  man  who  arrived  with  a  woman.  He  was  pretty 
scared;  he  dumped  the  girl  here  and  cleared — 
God  knows  where  to.  What  was  it  her  Eskimo 
husband  was  called — it  was  the  fellow  who  saved 
the  crews  at  Icy  Cape — Saca — ?" 

"Sakhawachiak,"    said    Migi,    upset    by    the 
sheriff's  words;  "yes,  he's  a  good  man,  a  friend  of 


mine." 


"You  don't  say!"  said  the  sheriff,  and  whistled; 
"and  the  woman?" 

"I  don't  know  her,  but  I've  got  a  message 
from  her  husband,  the  first  one — Sakhawachiak. 
I  spent  the  winter  with  him — two  winters,  in 
fact,  and  know  him  well.  He  asked  me  to  look 
her  up  and  send  her  to  him;  he  will  keep  her — 
he  thinks  it's  a  shame  she  should  live  so  far 
from  friends." 

"Good  Lord  almighty!"  exclaimed  the  sheriff 
with  conviction,  "you  don't  mean  that!  Why, 
she's  no  use  now,  not  for  anything  in  this  world. 
She  does  a  little  washing  and  helps  the  men 
sometimes  .  .  .  she  is  absolutely  done  for;  it'll 
never  do  to  let  her  go  back  to  her  own  country, 
she'll  do  too  much  harm  there.  Goodness  knows 
we'd  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  her — she  only  does  harm 
here — but  just  think  of  what  she'd  do  up  there !" 


Frozen  Justice        225 

They  talked  about  her  for  a  long  time,  and 
Migi  told  the  sheriff  about  Sakhawachiak  and 
Douglamana,  about  the  furs  he  had  on  the  sledge, 
about  the  new  warm  clothing  and  the  two  old 
people  who  were  waiting  up  there,  a  thousand 
miles  from  Candle.  The  sheriff  sat  quietly  listen- 
ing. "Poor  things,"  he  said  when  Migi  had 
finished;  "poor  woman!  But  look  here — go 
down  and  see  her,  and  afterwards  we  can  talk  it 


over." 


Migi  walked  through  the  town,  out  to  some 
small  cabins  which  lay  in  a  group  by  themselves, 
miserable,  dilapidated-looking  hovels — women's 
shrieks  and  men's  loud  laughter  came  from  them. 
The  worst  scum  of  the  mining  town  lived  there. 
Migi  kept  his  head  down;  he  did  not  care  to  be 
seen  round  here. 

He  asked  his  way,  found  Igluruk's  cabin, 
knocked  and  went  in. 

Some  time  elapsed  before  his  eyes  grew  ac- 
customed to  the  darkness  of  the  room  and  could 
distinguish  objects — a  bed,  a  small  table  with 
remains  of  food  on  it,  clothes  thrown  all  about — 
fearful  untidiness  and  a  terrible  stench. 

Igluruk  sat  on  the  bed  half-naked.  "Ah,  a 
stranger,  come  in!" — and  with  a  smile  she  rose 
to  meet  him.  Her  fat  bust  glistened  in  the  semi- 
darkness,  her  hair  was  unkempt  and  fell  over  her 
shoulders  in  matted  strands,  full  of  feathers  and 


226        Frozen  Justice 

animals'  hairs.     "Come  in,  stranger,  welcome." 

Migi  sat  down  on  a  chair.     "Igluruk!" 

She  started  and  looked  at  him  searchingly: 
"Who  are  you?" 

"I  come  from  the  north,"  answered  Migi, 
"from  Nuwuk.     Do  you  remejnber  Nuwuk?" 

The  woman  sat  down ;  she  was  shaking  in  every 
limb  and  her  eyes  took  on  a  hunted  look — but 
she  said  nothing,  only  nodded. 

"I  have  lived  up  there,"  Migi  went  on — "for 
some  years.  On  a  little  island,  a  good  way  to  the 
east  of  Nuwuk.  I  met  a  man  there — he  sends  a 
message  and  his  greeting." 

"Stranger,"  she  said  in  a  tearful  voice,  "who 
was  it?" 

"Sakhawachiak." 

The  woman  laid  her  head  on  her  arms  and 
sobbed.     "Does  he  still  remember  me?" 

"Yes,"  Migi  answered;  "he  remembers  you, 
and  he  asked  me  to  go  and  see  you  and  to  say 
that  he  is  afraid  you  are  in  want.  He  would  like 
to  help  you — can  he  help?" 

Igluruk  wept  ...  it  was  a  long  since  she  had 
thought  of  Nuwuk,  of  the  happiest  time  of  her 
life,  when  she  was  Sakhawachiak's  woman  .  .  . 
memories  overwhelmed  her,  and  she  wept,  wept 
so  that  her  whole  body  shook.     Poor  woman. 

When  she  grew  calmer  Migi  talked  to  her 
about  the  past,  about  her  home,  about  her  friends 


Frozen  Justice        227 

there,  Sakhawachiak,  while  he  watched  her  face, 
devastated  by  debauchery,  sickness  and  want. 

But  the  stifling  odour  of  the  room  soon  drove 
Migi  outside,  where  he  filled  his  lungs  with  the 
pure,  clear  air.  Slowly  he  made  his  way  back 
to  the  sheriff,  at  a  loss  what  he  should  do. 

"Well?"  asked  the  sheriff;  "what  do  you  say 
now?  Have  you  seen  her?  She's  a  beauty, 
isn't  she?" 

Migi  shook  his  head.  "Yes,  sheriff,  you're 
right.  It  would  never  do  to  let  her  go  back 
to  Sakhawachiak.  But  what  are  we  going  to  do? 
I  have  the  whole  sledge  full  of  furs — what  do 
you  propose?" 

They  talked  it  over  at  length  and  called  in  the 
parson.  It  was  hard  to  decide  what  to  do,  but 
in  the  end  they  agreed  that  the  furs  should  be 
sold  and  the  money  deposited  with  the  parson, 
who  would  give  it  out  to  Igluruk  when  she  needed 
it  most;  she  could  not  live  long,  in  the  state  she 
was  in. 

And  thus  it  was  settled. 

The  furs  fetched  several  thousand  dollars,  a 
lot  of  money  to  Igluruk,  and  Migi  went  to  tell 
her  of  the  arrangement. 

She  was  half  drunk,  had  forgotten  their  former 
meeting  and  advanced  with  a  pleased  smile  to 
meet  the  welcome  guest.     "Good  day,  stranger." 

Migi  sat  down.     "Now,  Igluruk,  you've  got  to 


228        Frozen  Justice 

listen  to  me.  Sakhawachiak  has  sent  me  here 
to  ask  whether  you  will  go  back  to  him  and 
whether  you  can  make  the  journey.  What  do 
you;  think — can  you  do  it?" 

She  shivered  at  the  thought.  "Journey,  I? — 
no,  impossible;  I'm  too  old.  ...  I  made  the 
journey  once,  a  terribly  hard  one  .  .  .  but  now 
— I  neither  will  nor  can;  I  haven't  forgotten  my 
last  journey.'' 

"No  I  thought  not,"  continued  Migi ;  "you  can- 
not travel;  but  Sakhawachiak  gave  me  some  furs 
to  sell  here  in  Candle,  so  that  you  might  have 
money  for  the  journey.     This  money — " 

"Money?"  she  interrupted  with  a  greedy  light 
in  her  eyes — "did  he  give  you  money?  Give  it 
me — at  once — you  want  to  steal  it  from  me; 
all  white  men  do  that.     Where  is  the  money?" 

"I  haven't  got  it  here,"  said  Migi,  "and  you 
won't  get  it  all  at  once.  But  when  you  are  very 
hard  up,  when  you  have  nothing  to  eat,  go  to 
the  sheriff  or  the  clergyman  and  they  will  give 
you  money." 

It  was  as  though  an  evil  spirit  possessed  her 
at  the  thought  of  money.  "Give  me  the  money 
at  once!  Curse  you,  you  white  devil,  you're 
robbing  me!" 

Migi  got  angry.  "Be  quiet,  woman  and  listen 
to  me.  I'm  not  going  to  steal  your  money;  on 
the   contrary,   I    have  brought  money   for  you 


Frozen  Justice       229 

which  you  would  never  have  had  but  for  me. 
I've  had  hard  enough  work  to  get  here;  but  it 
will  be  as  I  told  you — the  money  is  not  going  to 
be  wasted,  you  won't  get  it  now — only  when  you 
need  it." 

"How  much  is  it?"  asked  Igluruk  with  a  greedy 
leer. 

"I'll  not  tell  you  that  either,"  Migi  answered 
sternly;  "but  here's  a  little  for  you,  enough  for 
a  celebration.  Tomorrow  I  am  going  on  and 
you'll  never  see  me  again,  but  I  shall  send  word 
to  Sakhawachiak  that  you  are  dead — it's  a  shame 
that  he  should  go  on  thinking  about  you." 

"Do  what  you  like!"  shrieked  Igluruk;  "do 
what  you  like,  but  give  me  the  money,  now!" — 
and  Migi  laid  on  the  table  forty  shining  dollar 
pieces — and  then  went,  feeling  sad  on  Sakhawa- 
chiak's  account,  and  sickened  with  the  woman 
who  stood  in  the  doorway  calling  after  him: 
"Thief,  scoundrel,  you're  stealing  my  money!" 

That  evening  Migi  spent  with  the  sheriff. 
They  talked  of  Sakhawachiak  and  of  Igluruk, 
unworthy  of  his  fidelity  if  ever  woman  was;  and 
as  he  went  home  he  heard  howls  and  laughter 
from  the  group  of  little  cabins  where  Igluruk 
lived.  He  smiled  a  tired  smile — he  had  sledged 
far,  Igluruk  had  been  often  in  his  mind  and  he 
had  believed  the  worst  of  her;  but  even  so  he  had 
been  surprised  at  the  completeness  of  her  fall 


230       Frozen  Justice 

and  ruin.  And  he  thought  of  the  two  old  folks 
who  were  waiting  on  Flaxman  Island — for  her 
who  would  never  come. 

Next  morning  Migi  was  awakened  by  some  one 
knocking  hard  at  his  door.  It  was  the  sheriff. 
"Get  up,  stranger!"  he  said.  Migi  slipped  into 
his  clothes  and  went  out  to  the  silent  sheriff,  who 
would  not  say  what  made  him  call  so  early.  The 
town  was  not  awake.  The  sheriff  led  the  way 
in  the  direction  of  Igluruk's  shack,  and  a  group  of 
men  who  were  standing  outside  opened  out  when 
the  two  came  up.  "Look,  stranger!" — and  there 
lay  Igluruk  in  the  snow,  half  naked,  stiff,  cold, 
dead.  'Drunken,  she  had  gone  outside  her 
cabin  .  .  .  the  cold  had  struck  her  and  she  had 
fallen  ...  the  biting  frost  had  done  the  rest. 

At  last  she  had  found  peace. 


^QV 


